


Who Are You Calling A Bitch?

by xx_ciela



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cats, Dogs, F/F, F/M, Foxes, M/M, Wolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2019-10-08 15:03:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 57,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17388596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xx_ciela/pseuds/xx_ciela
Summary: For twenty-three years, Mikasa has been unsure of some things. Does pineapple go on pizza? Is it pronounced Caribbean or Caribbean? Is it “Berenstein” or “Berenstain” Bears?” Yet Mikasa has always been sure that she loathes dogs.That’s right. Mikasa dislikes dogs; not truly hate them, as her adoptive brother, Eren, seems to love them very much, and she would at least tolerate a mongrel in his presence just to appease him. Eren would say that the reason Mikasa appears frigid is because she has never felt the love from a dog. They would scatter away whimpering after she shoots a withering look.But she doesn’t mind. Mikasa is actually fine with living alone in her animal-free apartment without any worries of ever returning to shit on the carpet, turned over trash cans, or shredded couches. It’s not like she dislikes all animals; cats, rabbits, and even lizards, are cute. Dogs never liked Mikasa, and Mikasa gladly reciprocated the same feeling.





	1. Ruff

The sun was setting as he ran across the abandoned rail bridge. A waxing gibbous rising from the east. The wooden planks underneath his feet were semi-wet. Some parts of the bridge was already rotten and ready to give under any weight. The once dark-grey metal was splotched with rust.

It had taken his partner and him half a decade to track down their target. Against his partners wishes, here he is now, dashing across the dead bridge to put an end to everything once and for all. He had done a considerable amount of damage against his target. He also has gained some new trophies for himself: a split lip, possible broken ribs, a minor concussion.

He sped up when he saw his target limping ahead of him. He bit down on his inner cheek and picked up the speed. 

The target didn’t turn back but could hear the commotion behind them. Their leg was useless, and they were losing blood from the shallow stab wound on their back. They were lucky they weren’t dead, yet. How could they have let their guard down so easy? And this beast had even killed the reinforcements they had called in at the last minute. They could die. But they can also still live.

When he closed the distance to his target, he lunged. His target dodged, but didn’t feel the hand grabbing their coat until he tugged them forward. Using the momentum, he reared his elbow and and smashed it across the target’s face, their head snapping along with the motion. He then dug it into the wound on their back, causing them to screech. He upped his knee and cracked it into their abdomen. He finally let them fall as he stood over his target.

They were coughing and groaning in pain. Everything hurt. Their lungs burned and their chest rattled with every cough. Their back went from dull to prickling hot when he had dug his elbow in. It was now or never. They slowly began to crawl towards the edge of the bridge. The sun had completely set now and darkness approached.

“How pitiful,” he said. His tone flat. He kicked at the crawling figure and he earned himself a groan. “You think that hurt? You don’t even know all the shit we went through to hunt you down.”

Their fingers scrambled on the rail and dragged themselves closer to the edge. The wood was creaking into their ear the closer they got to the edge. Ahead they saw a promising position. They screamed again when another blow landed on their lower back.

“You took many innocent lives,” he continued. “I could kill you now, but I prefer to savor my favorite dish.” He pulled out a bronze blade streaked with the remains of blood from his coat. The blood is from his failed beginning attack on them, where he left the wound on their back.

They finally reached the edge, the dead wood moaning into their ear, and turned themself over to face their killer. An instant sharp pain veined out from their shoulder as he sunk the blade. They cried again, tears bursting from their reservoirs. He was crouched on top of them, slowly leaning his weight into the blade. His pupils were constricted against a metal-blue background. A monster’s eyes.

“Final wishes,” he demanded coldly.

They mustered a sick and pained snarl. “Drown.”

They forced the last of their energy and used their weight to buck him to the side. They saw the look of shock flare across his features. Before he could right himself, they released the blade from their shoulder and sliced off the chain around his neck. They threw it off the edge of the bridge. 

His mouth was hanging open slightly. He made to get up and lunge at his target again but failed. At the stomp of their foot, the wood gave away beneath him, and he fell into a cold, dark abyss.

* * *

 

For twenty-three years, Mikasa has been unsure of some things. Does pineapple go on pizza? Is it pronounced Caribbean or Caribbean? Is it “Berenstein” or “Berenstain” Bears?” Yet Mikasa has always been sure that she loathes dogs.

That’s right. Mikasa dislikes dogs; not truly hate them, as her adoptive brother, Eren, seems to love them very much, and she would at least tolerate a mongrel in his presence just to appease him. Eren would say that the reason Mikasa appears frigid is because she has never felt the love from a dog. They would scatter away whimpering after she shoots a withering look. 

But she doesn’t mind. Mikasa is actually fine with living alone in her animal-free apartment without any worries of ever returning to shit on the carpet, turned over trash cans, or shredded couches. It’s not like she dislikes all animals; cats, rabbits, and even lizards, are cute. Dogs never liked Mikasa, and Mikasa gladly reciprocated the same feeling.

Mikasa glanced at the clock on her desk. Seven in the evening, her cue to leave. She stood up from her chair and stretched, her joints popping. 

“Hey, Mikasa, are we still getting lunch tomorrow?” 

Mikasa lowered her arms from above her head, and looked at her coworker who was standing at the doorway of her department.. “Yeah, at the bistro across town, right?”

Historia nodded her blonde head. “Yup. I will pick you up from your place around noon.”

Mikasa had finished packing her bag and picked up her laptop. “Sounds like a plan,” she confirmed as she headed out with Historia. Outside, in front of the building, both women waved to each other and parted in opposite directions.

Mikasa has known Historia ever since they both landed their internships, and soon to be jobs, at the same media company. They didn’t talk at first until after they were both assigned to do coffee runs for their respective departments for a handful of grueling months. There was a silver-lining in those months, and that was the close friendship they had developed. So much so, that both of the women looked forward to picking up the coffee, even if it meant with dealing with extravagant orders. 

Of course after they were done with their internships, and taken their career paths, they were separated into different departments; Historia into social media and Mikasa into public relations. They still made time for each other to meet up in the building, even calling each other their work-wife. 

The light had turned red and Mikasa stopped at the crosswalk, glancing at her wristwatch. Her car was currently in maintenance, and she had fifteen minutes to get to the bus station if she wanted to get home before 8:30. Doing some mental math, she decided to cut through the backstreets to save herself five minutes and beat evening traffic.

There is hardly any people on the backstreets; only the streetlights and the sound of Mikasa’s heels clicking kept her company. Mikasa isn’t afraid to walk by herself at night. She has been training in MMA since she was nine, much to the chagrin of her adoptive mother. Carla wanted her to do a less violent sport but Mikasa is stubborn; a trait that is a blessing or a curse, no in between.

She glanced at her wristwatch again and picked up her pace. She doesn’t mind public transportation but she misses having her car. The freedom of leaving and arriving at destinations on her own terms. Too bad she couldn’t pick up her car until the day after tomorrow. 

Mikasa turned the corner blindingly, and bumped into a solid wall of muscle. She backed up and patted her pockets quickly. Pickpockets were getting creative these days. All good. 

“Sorry, I’m in a rush,” she mumbled to the figure, and moved off to the side, rushing to catch the next bus.

“Bitch,” the figure mumbled, and continued walking.

* * *

 

Mikasa closed the door behind her and kicked off her god-forsaken heels. They may be only six centimeters high but she still found them so unbearable. Still, she has to keep up appearances.

She unslings her bag from her shoulder and lays it down on the coffee table in her small living room. She heads into her bedroom and almost rips off her pencil skirt, quickly swapping them for ankle-length leggings. She was about to start unbuttoning her blouse when her doorbell buzzed. 

Mikasa sighs, comfort will have to wait. It couldn’t be Jehovah's Witness at this hour, and she hasn’t ordered take out in months. She stopped at the buzzer by the door and pressed a button.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, Eren!”

Mikasa then slid off the bolt from the door and opened it. Before her stood her brother. Her tall, brunet, green-eyed, and somewhat looking guilty brother. She leaned on the doorway, staring at him blankly.

“What did you do?”   


“Why do you assume I did something wrong?” He asked, feigning hurt. “I thought you knew me better than that.”

Mikasa pursed her lips. “The tips of your ears are red.” 

Immediately, Eren placed a hand over one of his ears, now blushing at being caught. “It’s from the cold!” he lied.

It was then that Mikasa noticed that his other hand was holding a thick, red cord, stretching out to his side. Eren saw his sister staring at the cord and he moved to block his surprise from her view.

“Now, listen, Mikasa,” he began carefully, “I need you to do me a huge favor.”

She clicked her tongue. “How huge are we talking here?”

Eren didn’t know how to continue. He felt that either way, he was going to get an inevitable ass whooping from her. Accepting this fate, he gently tugged on the cord that’s wrapped around his hand to show her.

Mikasa’s eyes widen slightly at what she saw. “What the fuck, Eren?” She whisper-shouted. “You know you can’t--”

“Can we come in first?” He interrupted, much to Mikasa’s annoyance. “I don’t want your neighbors to see anything?”

“I’m pretty sure the security cameras in the lobby have already seen plenty!”

Eren gave her a pleading look, and she relented. She stepped far off to the side to let Eren and his...company, to walk in before closing the door and sliding the bolt home. She padded into the living room where she saw Eren sitting down on the floor by the coffee table with his companion doing the same.

“Don’t let that thing on my couch,” Mikasa warned, eyeing the beast beside him. She remained standing staring at them, arms crossed.

The damn animal beside him had the audacity to look at her straight on, ears erect, chest seemingly puffed out. It’s covered in black fur all around, save for one front paw and the tip of its tail, both colored white. It’s eyes are of a dark shade of blue. It appears to be an Aussie-mix. Mikasa swore that she could smell it from where she was standing.

Eren cleared his throat. “Mikasa, I would like you to meet Ernie.” He settled his hand on top of the dog’s head as he said his name. Ernie simply diverted his eyes from her and looked around the new environment, nose twitching.

Mikasa felt the vein near her eye pulse. “You know damn well that I don’t like dogs.”

Eren reclined onto his hands. “I know, but listen, please. I was down at the shelter, like usual, when this little guy,” he stroked Ernie’s neck, “was brought in by some teenager a week ago. No tags or chip at all, and was sprawled on a river bank, injured. The shelter nursed him but they can’t take him in because it’s full, so I thought, that maybe--”

“That maybe I will take in a stray for you?!” Mikasa said incredulously. “Christ, Eren! That dog could have fleas or rabies!”

“Don’t worry, I checked and cleaned him up before bringing him here,” he assured with a wave of his hand. “You think I don’t have that much of a common sense.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes. “Your common sense must be terrible since you brought him here. Can’t you find anybody else?”

Eren was now leaning on the coffee table. “Armin is allergic, I can’t keep him because I’m fostering other dogs, and Annie is a rehabilitator.” He points to his sister. “Which narrows it down to you.”

Mikasa pinched the bridge of her nose. “Eren, I don’t have the time to be looking after him. Large animals aren’t allowed in the building, either. And you need to make more friends. Human friends.”

He dismissed this. “Don’t worry about it! I already bribed the front desk to turn a blind eye to Ernie, and provided measurements to show that it is a medium-sized dog. Not large. This is only temporary, Mikasa. Please, it’s just one dog,” he pulled Ernie, who was reluctant, onto his lap. He peeked his head around the dog to look at Mikasa. “How can you say ‘no’ to this face?” 

Mikasa can easily say ‘no’ to the mutt’s face, but not to Eren’s. He always put on his begging face whenever he was asking for something from her. It’s the only puppy-look that she would fall for. She released a long sigh. “Fine, but this is only temporary. I want you to be looking for a new home for him, or until the shelter has an open spot.”

Eren whooped and took off the red cord from around Ernie, who proceeded to shake. Mikasa grimaced at the thought that fur was already flying off of him. Eren moved the dog aside to stand up and to hug Mikasa. She froze momentarily before patting his back.

“What did you bribe the front desk with?” She whispered into Eren’s ear. At that he pulled off of her and went to the front door, unlocking it.

She followed after him. “Eren?”

From outside of the apartment, Eren retrieved a box. “A date.” He handed her the box filled with a couple of bags of dog food, toys, a bed and a blanket. “With you.”

“What?!"

“It’s with that guy with the long-face. John?”

“You mean, Jean,” clarified Mikasa. She groaned when Eren nodded his head. Jean is an okay - plain - guy, just not someone for her. He works the front desk, part-time, while still attending university; or so as he as told Mikasa whenever she passes through.

“He agreed to only one date,” shrugged Eren. “After that, it’s up to you guys. But I would say you have poor taste, Mikasa, if you decide to go steady with him.” She feint-threw the box at him, and Eren laughed. He gave his sister a final look of sincerity before leaving. “Seriously, thank you, Mikasa. You’re doing a huge favor for me.”

Mikasa walked back to the living room, with the box in her arms, to find that Ernie was snout-deep inside her bag. He retreated when he saw her glaring at him, instead choosing to jump onto the couch, making himself comfortable.

If looks could kill, Ernie would have died that night.

* * *

 

The following morning, Mikasa woke up early. It’s her day off, and on her days off she likes to sleep in. But that isn’t the case for this day. Instead, she was woken up by Ernie pulling the blankets off of her. She tried to pull them back over her but it soon spiraled into a never-ending tug of war.

“Alright, I’m up!” She groaned getting out of bed. Ernie sat on the floor at the end of her bed, the edge of the blankets still in his mouth and pooling in front of him. 

After washing up, she headed to the kitchen to make herself breakfast. Ernie followed close behind her. Mikasa glanced at the clock on the stove and really wanted to bap the dog on the nose. It read fifteen after seven. 

Once she poured Ernie’s serving of food into his blue, porcelain bowl, Mikasa settled herself on the breakfast bar overlooking the living room. She chewed on her food harder when she saw the dog bed looking unused, and her white throw pillows on the couch looking speckled. 

Mikasa’s thoughts of having Ernie shaved disappeared when her phone buzzed beside her. It was from Historia.

**Historia:** Text me when you wake up :)

_ 7: 35 AM _

**Mikasa:** I’m awake. What’s up?

_ 7: 37 AM _

Mikasa was now placing her dishes into the sink when she jumped at the wet feeling of Ernie’s nose against her calf. She looked down at him and he sauntered around the corner. She followed him to see him standing by the door. Mikasa sighed. Of course, just like any other living being, he might have to use the bathroom.

“Just wait a moment,” she said to Ernie, and walked off to her room. While changing, she got another message.

**Historia:** What are you doing awake at this hour?! It’s your day off, I would sleep in if I were you

_ 7:43 AM _

Mikasa finished changing into jeans and a sweatshirt before responding.

**Mikasa:** I was planning to, but my new roommate isn’t letting me. He literally came into my room and wouldn’t leave until I got up.

_ 7: 59 AM _

Mikasa then stopped by the coffee table where the box Eren handed her sat, and pulled out the red cord from last night. She then saw a small roll of little bags and ripped off a couple. Just another reason why she didn’t like dogs. Unlike cats, they don’t bury their shit and she is left to clean it up. Her phone sounded off and she glanced at it.

**Historia:** (0_0) You have a lot of explaining to do during lunch

_ 8: 07 AM _

At the door, Mikasa kneeled in front of the dog and slipped the cord around his neck, careful not to touch him. Maybe she should get Ernie an actual collar and leash. The cord must be extremely uncomfortable. Grabbing her keys from the hooks on the wall, and patting her pockets to make sure she had her phone and wallet, she walked out the door with Ernie.

Mikasa was lucky that no other tenants decided to use the elevator. But unlucky when she saw Jean at the front desk. He has his head down reading from a textbook and a laptop opened adjacent to him. She could have snuck by successfully if it wasn’t for Ernie thinking it would be a good idea to bark just then. She glared at Ernie, and he looked up at her with what Mikasa swore was a smug look in his eyes.

Jean looked up in their direction and gave an awkward smile. “Good morning, Mikasa.” 

“Good morning, Jean,” she responded, pulling Ernie behind her towards the doors. She stopped, her hand still on the handle, before sighing and going to the desk. She stopped in front of it and looked at Jean, who was trying his hardest not to blush at her sudden approach. “Did Eren really promised you a date with me, if you kept quiet about this?” She gestured to Ernie beside her, who was looking towards the doors.

Jean failed and his face glowed red. “Y-yes,” he mumbled meekly, looking at anywhere that wasn’t Mikasa. 

So Eren wasn’t bluffing. She kept her face blank as she pulled out her wallet and handed Jean her card. Nothing fancy; just her name, phone number, and email address. Jean took it as if it were made of gold, his mouth hanging slightly agape.

“Contact me once you want to plan this out. I was told by Eren that it was only one date.”

Jean merely nodded his head. With a nod from her, Mikasa left the building. Ernie turned back to look at Jean who was dancing wildly behind the front desk.

* * *

 

Mikasa was holding onto the cord lazily and let Ernie, instead, walk her. It seemed like he knew where he was going. Recalling from an old news article, there was a dog that traveled across the country by himself to where his family had moved to. She shouldn’t get her hopes up, but maybe Ernie was looking for his original home right now, and Mikasa can finally go back to living in peace by herself. 

Soon, the air surrounding them turned colder and the sidewalk had turned into pavement as Ernie still lead them wherever it was he was set on going to. Mikasa had never been to this part of town before. The pavement lead to a waterfront with the river on one side and greenery on the other.

Mikasa held fast onto the cord as she felt Ernie tugging harder. She pulled him back. “Easy, it’s not a race.” Ernie, instead decided to jump forward, nearly ripping off Mikasa’s arm. She stumbled but quickly righted herself, picking up her pace into a speed-walk with Ernie. Damn dog is stronger than he looks.

They continued in this pace until a river bank came into view. Ernie then began tugging even harder towards the bank. Mikasa struggled to hold him back. 

“Calm down,” she said through gritted teeth. Ernie hacked, clearly choking, before finally he jumped and shook his body at the same time making Mikasa lose her grip on the cord. He broke off in a run towards the bank, and began sniffing around.

Mikasa let out a noise of frustration as she jogged after him. She picked her way among the stones to reach for the end of the cord. Ernie was in the river looking into the water. Almost as if he was searching for something. Before Mikasa could grasp the cord, Ernie lunged further into the water.

“Ernie!” cried Mikasa, annoyed. Now she’s going to have to deal with the smell of a wet dog. There’s no way she’s going to let him back inside, even if he dried up. She will have to give him a bath once they got home. 

Ernie turned his head towards Mikasa, and hanging from his mouth was a sort of necklace. He came out of the river to her, and she kneeled down despite the strong scent of wet dog. Ernie dropped the object into her hand. A simple round pendant of moonstone, tied with a thick black cord. Upon closer inspection she saw a design, etched in gold, in the center of the pendant: wings. 

She looked from it to Ernie, who was staring at her intently. He didn’t find this intentionally, right? The more she looked into his eyes, the more she thought they looked human. At that crazy thought, she stood up and shook her head. She looked once more at the pendant. Whoever lost it, lost something beautiful. At Ernie’s whine, she pocketed it.

Mikasa glared down at Ernie, picking up his sodden cord. “Don’t run off like that again,” she scolded, and started to pull him along. He resisted, groaning as Mikasa tried to get him to start walking again. She was getting embarrassed as passersby were staring at them. “Come on, Ernie,” she muttered.

He finally gave and walked ahead of her. She exhaled, relieved, but it was cut short as he squatted in the middle of the pavement trail and did himself proud. He moved off to stare at her as she pulled out a plastic baggie and covered her nose with her shirt. 

No, Mikasa doesn’t like dogs. Now she is starting to hate them.


	2. Fuzzy Situation

By the time they got back to Mikasa’s apartment, she only had a short time to get ready before Historia’s arrival. Ernie was compliant in getting into the bath, and loved it when Mikasa would use her nails to scratch his neck and head. While Ernie smelled like lavender, Mikasa ended up smelling like river mud and wet dog. After a speedy shower, she picked up her cellphone from the counter and saw she had a text from Historia.

**Historia:** I’m here ^_^

_12:15 PM_

**Mikasa:** Not ready yet. Come up, the front desk will let you in.

_12: 16 PM_

Mikasa wrapped herself in her towel and rushed to her bedroom. She passed by Ernie in the living room dozing off on the couch. He snapped his head up when he saw her pass by. Mikasa didn’t close the door to her bedroom and began to dress. Just as she snapped on her bra, knocking came from her door.

 “Shit,” she muttered. She grabbed her shirt from her bed and walked out of her room, slipping it on the way to the door. Ernie was now off the couch and instead in the kitchen, his face in his water bowl. Mikasa pressed the buzzer by her door. “Who is it?”

 “Your wife,” came Historia’s voice. Mikasa opened the door and Historia’s eyes widened at her, before getting a suspicious look in them. “You look well,” she stated. Mikasa stepped aside to let her in.

 “Make yourself comfortable while I finish up,” called Mikasa as she went back to her bathroom. In the mirror, she grimaced at herself. Her towel-dried hair was sticking up all over and already drying and her shirt was all wrinkly.

 Historia walked into the living room and sat herself on the couch. She could still feel the prior body warmth on the cushions. “Is your roommate still home?” she inquired.

 In the short time that Historia has known Mikasa, she has never spoken about a roommate before. She would like to meet the roommate, thinking of them all going out to lunch together and getting to know each other. It wasn’t until she saw Mikasa’s mussed up look that maybe the roommate could be a little more than just that. Historia has never heard or seen Mikasa express any interest towards guys or girls.

 Mikasa was still fixing her hair and contemplating about how to answer Historia. She wasn’t necessarily clear in her earlier text about her “roommate.” Still, it would be fun to continue teasing her. “Yeah, he is.”

 Historia gasped audibly. “Oh? It’s a ‘he?’” She then stood up and looked around, hoping that he may just pop out of nowhere. “A roommate in a one bedroom apartment, huh?”

 Mikasa smirked and walked out of the bathroom towards her bedroom. “Yup,” she responded as she bypassed Historia. From what Mikasa learned from Armin is if you want to make people squirm only give them short replies and act coy.

 Historia tried to follow Mikasa into her bedroom but was greeted with the door in her face. She leaned against it. “Is he in there, Mikasa? I would love to meet him.” The door opened, causing Historia to almost fall in if it weren’t for Mikasa pushing her forward and closing the door behind her.

 "No,” was her only reply. Mikasa brushed off the cushions on the couch before sitting down to put on her shoes.

 “‘No’ as in he’s not in there, or ‘no’ as in I can’t meet him?”

 “No.”

 Historia stood in front of her. “Come on! At least tell me what he looks like.”

 Ernie walked in from the kitchen and sat a ways behind Historia. Mikasa only spared him a glance from where she was putting on her shoes before looking at Historia in the eyes with—what she hoped was—fake adoration.

 “Oh, he’s handsome,” she paused for effect, and Historia wanted to shake her. “He has dark hair, blue eyes, likes to go on walks, and is very strong.”

 Historia’s eyes lit up. “What’s his name?”

 Mikasa looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t know…”

 Historia was now chewing her lower lip. “Come on! Is he taller than you? Does he have facial hair? What’s his age? What does he do for a living?” Historia now had her hands on Mikasa’s shoulders and was leaning into her face with each question. Mikasa raised her eyebrow at her and Historia leaned back but still had her hands on her shoulders.

 Mikasa smirked. “Well,” Mikasa subtly looked at Ernie before continuing to pull Historia’s leg, “he really isn’t taller than me.” Historia’s face fell slightly. “But he is hairy, and has recently gotten out of jail.”

 “Recently?” Historia squeaked. “Hairy? How hairy are we talking?”

 “All. Over.” She mentally calculated the suppose age of the dog into human years. “And he’s in his early thirties.”

 Historia had retracted her hands from Mikasa’s shoulder after she described how hairy her “roommate” is. “Oh. He at least has a name, right?”

 Mikasa smirked again. “Ernie.”

 If Mikasa wasn’t in control of her facial expressions, she would have busted out laughing at the look on Historia’s face. “Ernie?” She asked, more for a clarification.

 Mikasa nodded and patted the space beside her. “Ernie.”

 Ernie, sensing his cue, strutted by Historia and hopped onto the couch beside Mikasa. If for once she was actually inviting him to sit on her couch, might as well take the offer.

 Historia immediately went from confusion to realization, and began to coo at the dog. “I thought you didn’t like dogs,” she said, rubbing Ernie’s scruff. Ernie was enjoying the massage and leaned more into her touch.

 Mikasa rolled her eyes before coaxing Ernie off the couch. The dog seemed to glare at her and she reciprocated it. “I don’t. I’m just looking after him for my brother. Temporarily, of course.”

 Historia kneeled on the floor and kept petting Ernie. “You’re the goodest, good boy I’ve ever seen! Yes, you are!”

 Mikasa raised her brow. “Is ‘goodest’ even a word?”

 Historia stood up, leaving Ernie lying on his back. “Grammar rules don’t apply when you talk to animals or children.”

 “Whatever, let’s get going,” Mikasa said, sidestepping Ernie to head to the door.

* * *

 

Maria’s Bistro and Bar lies on the other side of town, and is very popular with office workers and college students. Mikasa has been going to the bistro ever since she was a freshman in college. The first time she went was because Armin had invited her to be a part of his team for the trivia night they had hosted. Mikasa is competitive, and the idea of winning a gift card for food while being a broke college student; she showed no mercy to the other teams.

 Historia and Mikasa have their lunch at Maria’s usually on the days when one of them works and the other has a day off. It started during their internship, Mikasa fell behind in her work due to a week long flu, and Historia suggested helping her to be up to date by taking lunch at the bistro. After that, it somehow worked into what they currently have and became sort of a routine. They could go from not talking at all and enjoying each other’s company, or talking about everything and nothing. At times, it can also be like a therapy session and they would vent to each other.

 Historia was picking at the mushrooms on her carbonara, staring at Mikasa. She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth.

 “Is something wrong?”

 Historia shook her head. “I was just thinking,” she baited.

 “About?”

 Historia gave a sly grin. “We never really talk about boys together, do we?”

 “Guess we’re not going to pass the Bechdel test now.”

 Historia laughed. “Either way we would have failed it in the future. Might as well do it now.”

 Mikasa shrugged. “Our friendship is built on mutual understanding and food, not boy talk. Besides, I thought you identify as a lesbian?”

 “I’m a bisexual queen,” she quipped.

 “Well, your Majesty,” began Mikasa, “I don’t have the time to be focused on boys. I’m still trying to establish my career because the rent and bills don’t pay themselves. Not to mention the student debt that I have accumulated for one piece of paper.”

 Historia scoffed. “That boy that works the front desk couldn’t stop telling me about how you two are going on a date this weekend. No time, huh?”

 Mikasa wanted to bang her head on the table. “I’m only going on ONE date with him because Eren bribed him to keep quiet about the mongrel that’s currently living with me.”

 Historia frowned. “Don’t call that good boy a mongrel. What did he ever do to you?”

 “It’s been only one night, and he has shed fur all over my apartment,” Mikasa had set down her utensils and began using her fingers to keep count, “didn’t let me sleep in on my day off, and I’m pretty sure my couch reeks of him. He nearly dislocated my shoulder—”

 “Did he?”

 “—No! But he took a massive shit in the middle of the trail that I had to clean up!” Onlookers from other tables were staring at them. Mikasa let out a long exhale as Historia apologized to everybody around them.

 “We should probably get going,” Historia suggested. Mikasa didn’t need to be told twice, she was already waving down the waiter.

* * *

 

Historia had dropped Mikasa off at the front of the building with a promise that they would see each other at work the next day. Mikasa remained standing at the sidewalk until she could no longer see Historia’s car.

 She let out a sigh of relief when she saw that Jean wasn’t at the front desk. Mikasa had a headache building up, and she didn’t want to head up to her apartment straight away for fear that her head would split open. Instead she found solace in the lobby on one of the beige couches. She leaned her head up to stare at the ceiling.

 The first day still hasn’t been completed and Mikasa fully resents Ernie. She is sure that her couch is already heavily perfumed from his foul scent, and covered in his sticky fur. She had only picked up his poop once and she shudders at future clean ups. Why can’t dogs just bury their feces like cats?

 Mikasa closed her eyes and remembers her first encounter with a dog. She was around the age of four in an orphanage in her home country of Japan. She doesn’t really remember her birth parents; most of her childhood memories are either hard to grasp, or of the orphanage before being adopted by Eren’s family.

 In her memory, with permission, one of the staff brought their dog for the kids to play with. It was a rare Tosa breed. Albeit the breeds characteristics, the staff kept insisting that the dog was the biggest softy ever of its breed. Wouldn’t even hurt a flea. Mikasa had been the last one to join everybody else in the commons and was standing so far at the back; she couldn’t see the dog. All the kids got a turn to pet the dog, and it didn’t do anything to the younger or older kids. Until it was getting closer to Mikasa’s turn.

 The group thinned out after everybody touched the dog. Once it was Mikasa and a handful of other kids, the dog’s attention was only on her. It stared at her. Sniffed in her direction. It lunged at her. Mikasa had screeched and ran around the commons with it chasing her. It caught up with Mikasa, pulling her back by biting into her shirt, causing her to fall on her face. The beast dragged her before getting on top of her and snarl in her face. It’s paws were on her stomach and were very heavy and leathery. Its slobber splattered on her after each bark. It bit her in the shoulder and broke the skin. The staff had to pry the beast off her.

 While the dog had broken the skin on her shoulder, it didn’t leave behind a too noticeable scar. Just one dark marking that was only visible if someone pressed their face to her shoulder. Her arms and hand carried scratches for a good week. Her stomach only had a couple of bruises from the paws and weight of the Tosa. Her face, on the other hand, still held a scar from when she fell and the mongrel dragged her. She swore she still reeked of the dog’s cologne, and could still smell its slobber for months after it happened. At every bath, she would harshly scrub her body until it turned from its pale shade to an enraged red.

 She was afraid of dogs. Mikasa would avoid them, no matter the size. If she did cross paths with one, they would bark at her until she left or until their owners would pull them away. It wasn’t until she was adopted into Eren’s family that she stopped fearing them, but instead had chosen to loathe “man’s best friend.” Eren had gotten her over her fear, mainly because he was always bringing strays home and she had enough of the mess and the smell, and noise they made. Soon, she had to learn to at least tolerate them, especially when Eren was gifted a canine companion on his tenth birthday. A Dachshund that he named Titan.

 It was no longer, wherever Eren went, Armin and Mikasa would follow. It was wherever Eren, Armin, and Mikasa went, Titan would follow. A strong-willed dog that Armin had joked it reminded him of Mikasa in a way. Mikasa was upset with him after he made that comparison. Titan and Mikasa would always butt heads, but once both seemingly figured out they wanted the best for Eren, they tolerated each other in his presence. Out of his presence, both would growl and glare at each other. Titan was a strong-willed dog in his short lifetime. He lasted seven years before kicking the bucket. A little early than normal but that’s because he had fought some street dogs after he escaped through the gate to follow them to school.

 Eren was devastated over Titan’s death. Mikasa remembers not seeing him cry until he touched the corpse. Mikasa had touched Titan’s corpse, too. It was the first time she had ever touched a dog by will. Rigor mortis had kicked in long before the body was returned to the Jaegers by the street cleaners. Stiff, cold, furry. Somehow waxy. The paws felt slightly like plastic yet remained leathery. Eren had later told Mikasa that he cried because Titan felt more like a stuffed animal than his best friend. Titan still had his eyes opened when he died. Mikasa didn’t see the fire in the dog’s eyes. Instead she saw bottomless, black-ringed, foggy marbles.

 “Hey, Mikasa. You’re not dead are you?”

 Mikasa jumped awake and looked around her. Her arms were in position, ready for a fight. She found Eren in front of her, his arms also up and ready for a fight.

 He lowered his first. “Jesus! I just saw my life flash before my eyes.”

 “What time is it?” Mikasa rubbed her eyes.

 Eren glanced at his wristwatch. “Quarter to seven.”

 Mikasa froze. “Fuck! Six hours!” She then stood up. “That damn dog better not have shit in my home.” She pushed by Eren and was already making her way to the elevators when Eren called her.

 She looked over her shoulder to see that Ernie was lying on his stomach beside Eren, staring at her. Mocking her carelessness. She gripped the bridge of her nose and went back to Eren. Mikasa kept her distance away from Ernie.

 Eren knows how much Mikasa dislikes dogs. He could see how tired she looked after just one day with Ernie. He placed his hand on her shoulder, making her look at him. “I’ll walk him at around this hour for you, okay? That way you can have some time for yourself.”

 Mikasa confirmed the understanding in his eyes, and nodded. “Sounds good. And again, if the shelter has an opening, I want him gone.” She stared into his eyes. “Do you understand?”

 “Crystal.” He also holds up a key. “I still have your spare key, so I’ll let him in and have him settled once we’re done.”

 Mikasa stays in the lobby until Eren and Ernie saunter out for their walk. Ernie threw Mikasa one final look before leaving the building, his eyes appearing hypnotic in the low lights.

 In her apartment, she deep cleaned the whole place, had a light dinner, and prepared her bag for tomorrow morning. After watching a couple of episodes of _“The Golden Girls,”_ she changed into her sleeping clothes—blue cotton shorts and an oversized sweatshirt from her alma mater—and got ready for bed.

 She was getting out of the bathroom when she saw Ernie lying in the living room floor. He shifted his eyes from her and the couch. She shook her head at him, and went into the kitchen to turn off the light. She stopped when she saw a note stuck above the lightswitch.

 “ _Already walked and fed. Also had a stern chat with him. He’ll be a good puppy for you.” -Eren_

 “Puppy my ass,” she scoffed, turning off the lights. “And no couch,” she told the dog, bypassing him to her room.

 Mikasa kept her room door slightly ajar, just in case if she hears something during the night. She was beginning to settle into bed, when an uneasy feeling started to bloom and grow in her chest. She turned her head to look at the bedside drawer where she placed the pendant that Ernie had found earlier in the day. She opened it and pulled it out by the black cord. It felt heavy and smooth in her hands. Chilling.

 She traced the golden wings on the pendant, her brain itching. Has she seen it somewhere before? She then looked up from the pendant and to the door. She jumped slightly at the pair of eyes staring at her through the opening of the door. Ernie was blatantly staring at her.

 Mikasa jumped up and closed the door with a resounding click. Her heart was racing. Mikasa went back to bed, giving the wings a final glance before shoving the pendant underneath her pillow.

 It was hard for her to sleep. Her mind was spinning in circles. She hated that she felt caught by Ernie. Why? It’s a dog. Yet she still couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was still being watched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten good reviews so far, meaning I'll continue. I have at least 12-15 chapters planned right now. I also created a playlist that helps me write WAYCAB and will share later on.


	3. Play Date

_ Woods. Mikasa was standing in the middle of the woods. She looked around and above. The trees seemed to never stop reaching for the sky. She looked down at her hands and saw that they were small. Her whole body was that of a child’s. How did she get to be in the middle of the woods? _

_ She felt like crying, but a breeze of sudden wind soothed her. It caressed her ear. “Follow the wind.” _

_ Mikasa was dumbfounded before she took off following the rustles of the leaves from the wind above. Her feet were numb and she couldn’t feel herself landing on the soil. Her breath came out in labored puffs, and the sharp inhales stinged her sides. Still, she followed the wind through the leaves. _

_ Mikasa had the urge to look behind her. See exactly what she may be running from. She glanced quickly behind, and her head was snapped back by the wind. The wind somehow urged her to run faster. _

_ In the distance, she could hear howling and snarling. Her flesh pickled. She couldn’t feel anything anymore aside from a prickly sensation running down her spine. Fear? _

_ Her foot twisted from a wrong landing and she tumbled to the ground. The wind kept blowing against her, a strong gust. It managed to push her over a hill. _

_ Mikasa shrieked at the feeling of stones and branches prodding against her as she continued to roll down. The sound of barking stopped when she came to a stop. Mikasa wailed at the pain burning all over her small body. The howling continued, and suddenly silenced. _

_ A figure was over her. She opened her eyes, whimpering, and looked up from the grass to see a  _ miko _;_ _  a shrine maiden. Mikasa shivered as the maiden kneeled, wrapping a crimson shawl around her. No words passed between them. The  _ miko  _ shushed her, gently wiping the tear tracks off her cheeks with the shawl. _

* * *

 

Mikasa drained her mug, heavily setting it down next to her computer. She had been staring but not looking at her computer screen for most of the workday. She was getting frustrated at her recent lack of attention in her work.

“Rough day?”

Mikasa glanced at her coworker across from her. “You can say that,” she exhaled.

Mina gave her a sympathetic look before looking at the time in the corner of her screen. “What time are you off today?”

“Five.”

“If you want, I can continue by myself and you can take off early,” she smiled.

Mikasa was already shaking her head before she could finish her sentence. “No, it’s our project. I wouldn’t feel comfortable with you doing everything.”

Mina continued trying to insist. Mikasa kept shushing her until they both fell into silence. Mikasa squinted at her computer screen, prompting Mina to give her a worried look.

Mina is always looking after her coworkers well-being. At the slightest cough, her hand would already be outstretched offering throat lozenges. Mina has been noticing a lot of changes in Mikasa lately. The silent and demanding energy around her had become irritable and suffocating. People in their company stay out of Mikasa’s way most of the time, unless she approaches them or the situation call for it for work. Now, people seem to completely stay out of her way, and their skeletons shake if she makes eye contact with them. The only ones who still go near Mikasa have been Historia, Mina, and a few other people.

The very few that do go near Mikasa know why she’s currently irritated. It all falls back to one black dog.

Ernie has already spent a full week at Mikasa’s. The bags under her eyes and stray, black fur stuck on her white turtleneck couldn’t make her anymore  _ happier _ . Oh, she  _ loves _ having Ernie living with her. She enjoys how he sheds all over her apartment. She can’t get enough of his smell permeating her clothes. She always looks forward to cleaning up after him. And she especially loves how he is always seemingly stalking her movements.

When she walks out of the bathroom, Ernie is there waiting outside the door. If she is in the kitchen, he will be there, following her from the pantry to the stove to the fridge to the breakfast bar and back to the pantry. When she is sitting on the floor with her laptop on the coffee table, Ernie will be on the other side of it sitting down.

Mikasa had already conveyed her concerns to Eren. His response: “He must have separation anxiety, or he just really likes you.” Mikasa had nearly throttled her brother on the spot.

She also wanted to throttle herself. Jean had contacted her via text message with details about their date. He would pick her up in front of her apartment on Friday at six o’clock. Which is tonight. He didn’t give any further details on where they were going, but Mikasa assumes that he chose the safest option: dinner and a movie. After a week with Ernie, Mikasa was looking forward to heading to the gym and train with her trainer. But it would be best to get the date out of the way.

Mikasa laid her head on top of her desk. Mina stopped working and looked over at Mikasa again. She was about to ask if she was alright, but was left mouth hanging open when Mikasa just let out a long, guttural groan. When she stopped, Mina was about to ask again, but again she was cut off as Mikasa lifted her head back up, sat upright in her chair and began typing away on her computer. Mina smiled a little at the sight of the fire burning in Mikasa’s eyes.

* * *

 

Mikasa was in a rush. She was still drying off in the bathroom when her doorbell rang. Jean was early.

“Fuck,” she swore, dragging on her bra and underwear. She wrapped herself in her towel and exited the bathroom, speed-walking to her bedroom. Eren was coming out of the kitchen, spooning peach yogurt into his mouth and heading to the door. Ernie was sprawled on the couch watching everything unfold in front of him.

“If it’s Jean, let him in and stall him for five minutes!” called Mikasa.

Eren looked back at Ernie, and grinned. “By the way she looks, we should make it ten, right boy?”

Eren opened the door to an obviously nervous Jean, shoving a small bouquet of sunflowers and daffodils under his nose, not realizing that it isn’t Mikasa at the door. Eren spooned some yogurt into his mouth and grabbed ahold of the flowers. “I’m not really into sunflowers, but it’s the thought that counts, right?”

“Oh, fuck. It’s you,” said Jean, finally looking to see who answered the door. “These are for Mikasa.”

“I figured,” Eren polished off the yogurt, “but she also isn’t that into sunflowers.” A look of worry passed by Jean’s features as Eren clapped him in. “She’ll be out in a few. I mean, you are early.”

Eren set the flowers on top of the coffee table, Jean following behind. He was about to sit on the couch but halted once he saw Ernie, ears down and eyes intense. “He’s friendly, right?” asked Jean.

Eren grinned. “As far as I know, he is. Why don’t you become acquainted with Mikasa’s roommate while I head into the kitchen, John?”

“It’s Jean,” he corrected Eren’s back. Jean looked uneasily back at Ernie, his nose twitching in his direction. Jean held out his hand for the dog to sniff. He was starting to feel relieved when it looked like Ernie was starting to trust him, but backed off at his low growl.

Eren appeared from around the couch and rubbed Ernie’s ears. “Good boy,” he whispered.

Meanwhile, Mikasa was running around her bedroom. She blowed-dried her hair and combed out the mess, and moved on to makeup. She was in front of the small vanity that she keeps in the corner of her room—a Christmas gift from Historia. She followed one of the simple rituals that Historia and Mina had taught her: moisturizer, primer, BB cream, concealer—if necessary, eyebrows, eyeshadow, eyeliner, and mascara. Mikasa decided to skip most of it except for moisturizer and mascara.

Satisfied with the outcome, she opened her closet and drawers before settling on black pantyhose, a white mini-dress, a black sweater that she tucked at the midsection of the dress, black knee-high boots, and a long black cardigan. All monochrome, or as Eren called it, panda-style.

She pulled out her black box bag—another gift from Historia, as Mikasa doesn’t really like purses—and was shoving in some of her belongings, when her attention was caught by the pendant sticking from underneath her pillow. She picked up the cold moonstone, and stared at it intently. Mikasa was debating what to do with it, when she heard a yelp from the living room. She huffed, and set the moonstone on her bed underneath the pillow. Before she walked out of her bedroom, she gave herself the once-over at the vanity.

“Too dark,” she commented to herself. She resolved by pulling her hair into a high ponytail. “You need a cut,” she told her reflection.

Mikasa walked out into the living room to see Eren holding back his laughter, and Ernie standing in the middle of the coffee table staring intently at Jean, who was behind the couch also staring at Ernie intently more so out of fear.

“Ernie! Get off of my table, now!” She walked up to the dog and yanked him using the leather collar Eren had brought for him. Ernie gagged at the sudden movement, and sauntered to Eren. “Are you alright?”

Jean was now rendered speechless. For two reasons. The first being that, at Eren’s idea, he offered Ernie a treat to see if that would get him to trust him. Ernie didn’t accept any of the treats from his hand, and ran off the couch to be behind Jean. Jean got scared and ran to the other side of the couch. He threw a treat at Ernie, intending it to fall in front of his paws, but his aim was off and it hit his head, causing him to jump on the table and making Jean yelp.

Second, Jean couldn’t stop staring at Mikasa. He would see her every morning that she left for work, dressed in business or business casual attire, and think that she looked beautiful, soft yet powerful. He wouldn’t be at the front desk in the evenings, usually because of classes, so he never really got to see how she would dress for a Friday or Saturday night. In her current outfit, Jean noted that she also has a cute, youthful side. She still looked striking because of her long, dark hair pulled back to show off her cheekbones, and gray, almond-shaped eyes. A scar he never noticed before was on her cheekbone, and it intrigued him.

“Earth to John!” bellowed Eren, his hands cupped around his mouth, amplifying his voice. “Quit eye-fucking my sister!”

Mikasa kept her stoic face, unaffected, but rolled her eyes. Jean snapped back to reality and corrected Eren on his name, again. He cleared his throat. “Shall we get going?”

“Yeah,” responded Mikasa. As she guided Jean back out the front-door, sidestepping an alert Ernie, she looked back at Eren. “Are you going to be here all night?”

Her brother shook his head. “Nah, I’m just going to take Ernie for his usual night-walk, and then head over to Annie’s. She’s supposed to be coming back tonight.”

Mikasa nodded her head. “Help yourself to whatever, and tell Annie I said hello.” She glanced at Ernie looking in her direction from the entryway of the kitchen. She averted her eyes back to Eren. “See if she can also take in Ernie.”

Eren looked back at Ernie. “Yeah, I’ll see about that. You’ve been a good trooper for the week that he has been here, though,” he directed to Mikasa. “Are you sure you—?”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.”

* * *

 

Mikasa assumed correctly. Jean did take her to dinner and a movie. The car ride to the movie theater was nothing but empty small talk. However, Mikasa did learn that Jean is actually her age but younger than her by a couple months, he is set to graduate in the spring with a Bachelor’s in international affairs, and despite his typical-Joe appearance, he radiates a leadership vibe.

They had arrived at the cinema with time to spare. Jean paid for her ticket and for her iced tea.

“We can go Dutch for the rest of this date. I wouldn’t mind,” Mikasa started as they sat down towards the middle of a row. It wasn’t as crowded but it was still early before the film started.

“Nonsense,” he drawled, setting his water in one of the holders and his Skittles on his lap. “We’re on a date. I invited you out.”

“More like my brother did,” she scoffed. “He literally bribed you to be quiet about the dog in my apartment.”

Jean shrugged. “He did, but it gives me the chance to actually talk to you.”

Mikasa turned her head to look at him. He was facing the screen before he turned to meet her gaze. He blushed, and he thanked the Lord that the lights were already dimming in the theater, and the trailers began to role.

After two hours, the car ride to the restaurant was full of conversation about the movie,  _ “The Greatest Showman.” _

“She kissed him, even though she knew he has a wife and two daughters,” said Jean, recalling the movie.

Mikasa nodded. “I know, and she even met them, too.”

Jean shook his head as he turned into the parking lot. “What a bitch.”

“Indeed,” hummed Mikasa.

She got out of the car with Jean and looked at her surroundings. They were on Rose Island. Mikasa saw from across the river the waterfront where Ernie had walked her to on his first morning with her. Down the river was the highway bridge. Up river was an old rail bridge. It’s only been a week but it feels like the dog has been with her for an eternity.

Jean gestured to her to follow him and they ensued on walking around the small island. They passed the bridge that leads cars in and out of the island; the lighthouse stood at the edge, illuminating boats towards its marina; the walkway was lit with LED lights among the branches of trees and the streetlights took care of most of the darkness of the night. Mikasa could see her breath puff out in the light, taking in everything.

“I never been here before,” Mikasa said, with a tinge of awe.

“I kind of figured,” responded Jean. Mikasa gave him a look, and he continued to clear things off. “It’s just that it seems that you only how to eat, work, and sleep. Rinse and repeat. Do you even know what fun is?”

“My type of fun is heading to the gym, reading, and sleeping,” she answered.

“Well, it’s good to head out every once in a while.”

Mikasa hummed, as Jean opened the door for her into a seafood restaurant. He gave the host his name and they were lead to a table near the large windows of the building overlooking the lighthouse, the river, and the waterfront. Mikasa could see a the full moon against the dark velvet of night.

The restaurant was packed with customers, mainly couples and the occasional family. The lighting was dimmed down to give a hazy and cozy feeling, and lamps hanged over the tables, also dimmed down. After their orders were taken—grilled salmon for Jean and Ahi tuna for Mikasa—they settled into a semi-comfortable silence broken only from time to time with idle chatter.

“I was expecting you to take me to someplace different,” said Mikasa.

Jean sipped his tea. “Really? Where?”

“Olive Garden, maybe. Applebees.”

“I thought of that at first, but decided to break the cycle and choose something different,” Jean tittered.

Mikasa offered a small smile, and asked him on why he chose international affairs as his major. As he talked, Mikasa gave noises of affirmation and observed him. Mikasa didn’t really pay attention earlier to what he was wearing. Jean was dressed in a white button up and tan coat, his collar was loose to display his collarbones and neck. He wore dark denim that he tucked into rustic boots. His hair is dirty blond and slightly long compared to most men, a long face, and a passion in his eyes as he talks about his aspirations. His hands move constantly when he is enunciating a point. He reminded her a lot about Eren. An ambitious, competitive spirit, but missing that "I want to save the world" drive that Eren has.

Jean had stopped talking when their meals arrived, and both of them dug in. Mikasa felt her eyes widen by the taste of the tuna. The rich meat melted across her taste buds.

Jean laughed at her reaction. “Better than Applebees, huh?”

Mikasa floated on cloud nine. “Way better.”

Halfway through the meal, Mikasa felt her cell phone vibrating from her purse. She tried to ignore it, but then reached for it to see who kept calling her. Four messages from Annie, two messages from Armin, three missed calls from Annie, and one missed call from an unknown number. Mikasa started to feel a heavy pressure on her chest.

She was about to open the messages when her phone began ringing again from another call from Annie. She swiped on the icon to answer. Immediately, Annie began talking.

“Mikasa! Do you know where Eren is?”

Mikasa felt the pressure increase. “Isn’t he with you? He was at—”

Annie cut her off. “Eren hasn’t come by my place. He let me know that he was going to be at your apartment. When he didn’t came by, I went over and kept knocking on the door and calling for him but he never answered. I had Armin come over with his spare, and when we got in, the place was trashed!”

Mikasa sucked in air. Jean has stopped eating and was waiting for Mikasa to tell him what was happening. “Did you call the authorities? Is there any blood? Any sign of a—”

“I did,” answered Annie. “Armin is filling a report right now but they need you here. Nothing seems to be stolen.”

“We have to leave,” Mikasa mouthed at Jean. He started to flag down the waiter. “What about Eren? Or the dog? I have a dog in the apartment.”

“No sign of a dog, but Armin’s allergies has been going off way before we entered. I’m more worried about Eren.”

“So am I,” said Mikasa. “Look, I’ll arrive later at the apartment. I’m going to go out and look for Eren. Keep trying his cell and call me if anything else happens.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. Stay safe,” confirmed Annie.

* * *

 

Mikasa was walking briskly through the streets, looking up and down every block. Eren has told Mikasa that he walks Ernie a good few miles away from where she lives, and sometimes takes him to the South Dog Park. Of course, Mikasa couldn’t cover the whole radius, and since Jean volunteered to also keep a lookout, she sent him to survey the north while she went south.

There were less people and cars in the streets now, an odd occurrence for a Friday night, but understandable because of the December chill. The street lights being her only guide and her cell phone flashlight through alleyways. She glanced at the time on her phone. It was nearing midnight.

Mikasa knows that Eren can handle himself. Just how he knows that she can handle herself. Yet they still worry about each other’s safety. As children, growing up, Mikasa was always there to defend Eren and Armin from whoever dared to cross them. It was part of the reason why she picked up MMA. She wants nothing awful to happen to them, to anyone that she cares about.

What she found strange, though, was that Ernie wasn’t at the apartment. Ernie is strong—Mikasa has learned this from the tugging of his leash—and he seems to be alert, couldn’t he have done something? In his defense, he really isn’t a guard dog. Just a mutt that Eren dropped off on her to watch over.

Mikasa rubbed at the tingling feeling at the back of her neck. “Can’t that pooch do anything?”

Mikasa was now nearing the South Dog Park, and the pressure on her chest was now cold and stone-heavy. The park was closed but she still circled around the enclosure with her phone flashlight beaming on the walls, bushes, trees, on anything! Just as she was about to give up in her fruitless search, she heard a snarl. Her flesh grew goosebumps, the feeling at the back of her head spiked and she fought down the recollection of a dream she had a couple days prior.

Woods, wind, snarling, howling, and numbness.

She turned off the flashlight and walked closer to the enclosure of the dog park. She peered through the black, metal bars, trying to see anything. Her eyes swept the inside slowly until she saw movement ahead of her and the sound of rustling confirmed to her that there is more than just one body there. She looked up at the bars, pocketed her phone in her dress - yes, a dress with pockets! - and hiked up the bars. She was careful not to land on the spikes on top of the fence and hauled her body to the inside, bending her knees to ease the landing.

Mikasa looked around the inside of the dog park. Quiet, save for the rustling ahead of her among the bushes and trees. She gave silent prayer, that even throughout all of this, that she wouldn’t step in any leftover feces.

She crept to the bushes diagonally on the balls of her feet to make less noise. The closer she got she could hear growling, but also talking.  

“...never too late…”

“...the guardian…”

Mikasa had carefully moved the branches of the bushes, and she was crouched halfway in. She could barely see with the branches in the way, but it sounded to be mostly male voices.

“...descent...”

The growling rose again, and the sound of heavy masses thumping against the ground and grunting had paused Mikasa where she was at. Her arms were in front of her holding off any branches from whipping her in the face, yet one still manage to be poking near her eyeball. She held her wince. She may be trained, but she wasn’t stupid enough to charge into what sounded like a brawl. She’s still human.

Mikasa kept still, amidst the poking in her eye, waiting for the ruckus to die down before she can do anything else. It seemed never-ending, until her phone began ringing. Mikasa had raised the volume earlier, just in case. Her heart had never leapt into her throat so fast before.

The scuffling stopped, and Mikasa was then yanked out of the bushes by her ponytail. An involuntary shout escaped her—the sudden pull on her hair, and the scraping of the branch near her eye.

Mikasa was caught off guard, and she kicked with her legs while her hands seeked purchase on the arm holding onto her hair. Her hands touched an extremely fuzzy arm. Her foot had connected with something—a whine further proving this—but then her legs were caught, and a sharp kick behind her legs buckled her to her knees. She still buried her nails into the arm above her, and soon they were restrained by rough hands.

The figure tugged her hair to look at them. Her mouth fell open. The man—if he can be called that—has his arms covered in thick, coarse hair. His neck and face is also covered in it, menacing copper eyes. His face has a snout, and he is of a very bulky shape. A humanoid wolf.

Mikasa grimaced as he lowered his snout to sniff her. Whoever was holding back her legs and arms did the same; more than likely it was another humanoid wolf. He reeled his head back from her neck, and howled. Mikasa felt her body going numb at the death song.

The beast opened to bare its teeth and lunged for her neck. The thing behind her injected it’s nails—claws—into her wrists. Mikasa screwed her eyes shut.

The bite never came. A gunshot, a whine, and a sizzling sound dominated the ringing from Mikasa’s ears. She felt her wrists become loose, and she opened her eyes to see the beast in front of her standing, frozen. It’s figure began to fall towards her, and she scampered off to the side. She looked off to the rustling of bushes as the figure that was holding her escaped. Mikasa flinched as another round was fired after it.

Mikasa felt cold as the body in front of her was still sizzling from the bullet wound in the back of its skull. She didn’t look away, didn’t dare to move, as the one that shot the humanoid wolf was now aiming at her.


	4. Paws

The body is cooling in front of Mikasa, the sizzling still continuing even after the one who shot the beast is now aiming at her. She didn’t have to look to know. She raised her arms up slowly in the air, and the cock of the hammer was all she needed to confirm that they are planning on shooting her next. Mikasa could feel her blood scurrying down her arms from the puncture wounds her restrainer had left her. 

“You have no right to be here,” a deep voice reprimanded.

_ You don’t either! The park is closed _ , Mikasa thought. She bit gently on her own tongue to not say anything. She started to concoct a way to possibly get out of this situation. Two shots were fired about several seconds apart. It shouldn’t take long for someone to have heard them and call the emergency number. The amount of blood she was losing from her wrists was starting to make her feel woozy. If the gunslinger tries to take her hostage or kill her, she will have to fight and stall him until help could arrive.

Mikasa’s ears perked as her phone started ringing again in the direction of the shooter. Her phone must have flown out of her when she was yanked out of the bushes. Her body tightened as the footsteps came closer to where the corpse is. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw a pale, lean arm pick up her phone.

“Say anything and I will shoot you,” warned the voice. The ringing stopped and it was quiet until someone began speaking through her phone.

“Mikasa!”

Eren!

“Where are you?! I was on my way to Annie’s and forgot my phone at your place. I came back but saw the police and you place trashed!”

Mikasa felt her mouth dry. She wanted to scream out that she’s being held at gunpoint at the dog park due south.

“John is back, and he said you guys split up. Where are you, Mikasa? Mikasa? Are you th—?”

Mikasa closed her eyes when the shooter hanged up. A thumping noise was then heard in front of her. Cracking open an eye, she saw her phone in between her legs on the grass.

“Call someone once I’m gone, you hear?!” The wailing of sirens was arriving from a distance. Someone must have called over the gunshots.

“Yeah,” she responded, her mouth completely dry. Mikasa didn’t look up until she heard the tell-tale sounds of someone running away. In the direction where the man took off, she caught sight of a lean figure, running. A blur disappearing into the trees.

* * *

 

Annie slammed the door to her truck with her foot and toted the wicker basket into her home. A cottage forty minutes outside of town and on five acres of land. Her father left her a good inheritance to make up for his past behavior.

She whistled once inside and several dogs of varying breeds and sizes came loping in through the back. They encircled her as she made her way upstairs into one of the guest bedrooms. She set the basket on top of the trunk at the end of the double bed, and walked through the room she just cleaned less than two hours ago.

“Don’t come in here,” she warned to the Pomeranian halfway through the doorway. A standoff ensued and Annie chased it out. She closed the door behind her and headed downstairs to set water to boil, and to settle the dogs.

Annie wasn’t expecting this to happen. She returned home earlier than expected from her trip. She alerted Eren about her arrival once she was pulling up in her driveway. After he confirmed that he was on his way, she had went about the property and the dogs. She turned the inherited land into a rehabilitation for dogs that were abandoned, injured, or simply living out the rest of their days.

When she had checked the clock, she saw that Eren had yet to arrive. It was strange. He never arrived more than the forty minutes after his confirmation.

Annie grew impatient and set out to Mikasa’s where he said he had been. When she reached Mikasa’s apartment, she had knocked, shouted, and kicked at the door. Mikasa’s neighbors didn’t even bother poking their head out. She called and texted Eren receiving no answer. She had then contacted Mikasa but after several useless tries she dialed Armin. It didn’t take long for Armin to arrive, sniffling since he came out of the elevator, and opened up the place with his spare.

When they swung the door open, they were shocked at the scene. The couch was upturned and shredded, the glass on the coffee table was smashed, the photographs had cracked frames and were on the floor, and there was a gaping hole in the plaster near the entryway of the kitchen. Turning her head, she gaped at the deep furrows of scratch marks along the side of the doorway.

Armin contacted the authorities and Annie contacted Mikasa, whom had finally picked up. After explaining to her what happened, she tried Eren’s phone again as she walked through the living room. Armin began sneezing uncontrollably when he got closer to the couch. He then decided to wait for the police outside the apartment. It was when Annie got close to the couch herself she heard the sound of buzzing. She lifted the piece of furniture slightly to see a cell phone underneath it. Eren’s cell phone. Annie rolled her eyes as the police and Armin, now wearing a surgical mask, walked into the apartment.

Not soon after, Eren arrived. He looked shocked and confused when he saw what was happening in Mikasa’s apartment. Annie excused herself after giving her report to an officer and walked towards Eren, holding his cell phone out to him.

“What happened here?” Eren asked.

“So you didn’t throw a wild party, then?”

“Not since high school.”

She briefed him until they were interrupted from a man entering the apartment. Dirty blond hair and a long face.

“Mikasa hasn’t come back, yet?”

At that, Eren began tapping away on his phone. He swore when she didn’t pick up the first couple of times. On the third ring he ranted into the phone, receiving no answer and the phone call being cut off abruptly. Armin suggested tracking her phone, when on one of the officer’s radio picked up on an emergency call about two gunshots being fired due south of their current location.

They didn’t want to assume that Mikasa was near the firing, but all they could do was give their reports, let the authorities check the security cameras, and wait. They grew impatient waiting around until one of the officers told them that Mikasa had been taken to the hospital due to blood loss. Never had Annie seen Eren and Armin’s face pale so quickly.

While Eren and Armin had gone to the hospital, the long-faced man—Jean—went with authorities to check the footage. Annie took charge of packing some of Mikasa’s belongings and clearing out a spare bedroom in her home.

Annie turned off the stove when the kettle began whistling. She walked to the door when she heard a car pulling up in the driveway. The dogs were barking from the pasture from the back of the house. Annie opened the front door to see Eren coming out from the driver’s side, Mikasa and Armin coming from the back.

Mikasa’s hair was now loose from its ponytail. The inky strands were covering her face, all the way to her mid-back. Her white dress was covered in blood and grass stains, and her black pantyhose was torn revealing her knees. Her almond eyes were sunken and bruised. It’s bad timing, Annie knows that, as she held in her comparison of Mikasa looking like a fancy version of the little girl from  _ The Ring _ .

Eren came up in front of Annie. “You didn’t really had to offer a room. She could’ve stayed with Armin or I.”

Annie shook her head, as she patted him in. “She needs to be out of the city for the next couple of days.” She stepped aside to let Mikasa in. Armin followed—surgical mask in place and sniffling—carrying a backpack. “You can take that upstairs. To the left, second door on the right,” Annie instructed to Armin. He nodded and ambled up the steps, the pomeranian following. “And don’t let Marshall in the room!”

Eren had guided Mikasa into the kitchen and sat her at the mahogany table. Annie was pulling out mugs and filling them with the water from the kettle. She set out instant coffee and chamomile tea.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything that you need?” Eren asked Mikasa. Mikasa's hollow eyes reflected in her tea, shaking her head no. Annie noticed the holes in her cardigan, the white of the bandages around her wrists and forearms contrasting against the black knit. “Don’t be afraid to ask for anything.”

Annie placed her mug down. “She’ll be fine, Eren. She just needs to rest. She’s not a little girl.”

Mikasa nodded her head, finally sipping her now lukewarm tea. “Did they say when I can go back to my place?”

“Two days minimum, one week maximum,” Armin said, pulling up a chair at the table. He scooped instant coffee into his mug. “They’re going to examine the apartment more thoroughly, question the neighbors and management.” He tugged his mask down for him to drink his coffee straight. Eren pulled a face at the thought of bitter coffee. “You already looked over the place, too, and since nothing looks to be missing it shouldn’t take long for you to go back.”

It took a moment for Mikasa to nod her head, her face remaining blank.

“Have you already filed a missing dog report?” Eren asked Annie.

“I just sent an email to the shelters and kennels,” she set down her empty mug, “but they won’t look at it until morning.”

“It is close to four in the morning,” Armin observed, peering at his wristwatch. His mask came back in place when he saw Marshall patter in to sit on top of his shoes.

“You guys should head home,” Annie said, picking up the now empty mugs. “Nothing will happen to Mikasa here.”

The boys shared a worried look with each other. Before they could open their mouths, Mikasa said, “Guys, I’ll be okay.”

They would have to trust her. Eren and Armin slowly stood up to hug Mikasa goodbye. Annie followed them out, waving to them from the porch.

Armin addressed the elephant in the car once they were out of the driveway and on the road to the city. “Mikasa hates dogs, and Annie runs a rehabilitation for dogs. Don’t you think it’s weird that Mikasa still chose to stay with Annie despite that?”

Eren exited onto the highway. “Say they find Ernie by tomorrow. They can’t return to Mikasa’s until after the next day. I’m packed with my own dogs, and do you really want to be killed by your allergies?”

Armin pulled down his mask and sniffed through his now clearing up nose. “Sometimes you see through the things that I forget about, Eren.”

“Who forgets about their allergies?”

* * *

 

Mikasa unraveled the damp, plastic wrap from around her bandages and threw them into the wastebasket. She stared at her reflection and gently massaged the towel against her scalp, the small movements sending shock-waves to her wrists. She removed the bandage covering where the bush branch had scraped near her eye. A shallow cut, red and hot. Mikasa exhaled through her nose, changing into sweats and a T-shirt.

She opened the bathroom door to see she was cornered. The dogs were all sitting outside waiting for her. Several of them growled, and the Pomeranian—Marshall—yipped at her.

Annie came at the top of the stairs and saw the crowd in front of Mikasa. “Hey! Leave her be. Come on!” She disassembled the group and sent them downstairs. Marshall kept walking and turning around, yipping in Mikasa’s direction. He stood at the landing, barking, until Annie glared at him away.

Annie looked back at Mikasa. Her face kept its passive look, her hair a tangled mess. “Let me get your hair for you. Your arms would tire out.” Annie pushed past her to pull out a wide-tooth comb she kept in the drawers.

“No, I can get it,” Mikasa protested. “It only hurts if I move them for too long.”

Annie wasn’t having it, comb in hand and pushing Mikasa out of the bathroom. “Come on. It will be better if I do it.”

That’s how she found herself, sitting cross-legged on top of the trunk at the end of the bed. Annie had removed her shoes and was kneeling behind her on the bed. Annie combed through her hair gently, starting from the bottom and making her way to the top. One damp lock at a time. Mikasa found it odd.

“Why are you doing this?”

Annie worked through a snag. “Your arms are injured. The only times you should be using them is to eat and wipe yourself.”

Mikasa wasn’t bothered by Annie’s blunt way of speaking. She touched the bandages of her left arm, circling the wrist. “How would you know?”

Annie stopped combing. Mikasa waited for her to say something. Instead, Annie rolled up the sleeve of her sweatshirt up to her shoulder, angling herself for Mikasa to see it. Mikasa had never seen Annie wear a short-sleeve in the time she has known her. She couldn’t help the shocked look on her face.

Her wrists are smooth, but mid-forearm, faded dark lines ran up to underneath where she rolled her sweatshirt. There were smaller, circular scars patterned randomly; cigarette burns. On her bicep, there was a vertical purple-brown gash.

Annie rolled her sleeve back in place. “My dad was hard on me.” She picked up the comb, turned Mikasa’s head to face forward again, resuming where she left off. “It would sting when it was minimal movements. If I continued, it would feel like my whole arm was burning and ready to fall off.” She paused, remembering how if she didn’t meet his standards he would “motivate” her in a way until she did. “My mom didn’t intervene when he would burn me, bruise me, cut me, or bite me. She would apologize to me by feeding me my favorite foods, helping me write on my homework, and brush my hair when it was tangled.” A pause. “And don’t forget that I used to serve in the military.”

Mikasa wrapped her hand around her wrist. She doesn’t know who gave it to her, but ever since she could remember, she always had a mark seared on her wrist. She would trace it at night when she was in the orphanage and couldn’t sleep. It was her balm. She always wanted to believe that it was given to her with a meaning, a purpose. With love. That idea dissipated as she grew older and she started to hide it with long-sleeves or cover it with makeup. Comparing it to Annie’s, hers is a nosebleed and Annie’s is her whole heart.

“Does anyone else know?” she asked.

“No.”

Annie was already done with her hair. She still kept gliding the comb through her now smooth, thick locks. Mikasa didn’t stop her as dawn crawled in.

* * *

 

It was nearing one in the afternoon when Mikasa had awaken. She turned her head to the side to see the curtains drawn. When she saw the time displayed on the digital clock on the nightstand, she sat up against the headboard. Her mouth felt fuzzy and thick. Mikasa rubbed her eyes as she recalls last night’s events.

She did stop by her apartment to confirm if anything was missing. She had lied when she told them that nothing was stolen. When she was given a few moments alone to pack whatever Annie hadn’t taken, she searched all over her room to see where the pendant had gone. She remembered that she had thrown it on her bed. Her search was fruitless. She’s grown an inexplicable attachment to it. When Ernie brought it out of the river to her, she felt a sort of calling from it.

Mikasa rubbed her eyes, recalling what she saw at the dog park. It felt like a blurry dream. A humanoid wolf. Then the happy-trigger figure disappearing into the trees. Mikasa enjoyed reading the fairy tales introduced to her as a child at the orphanage and by the Jaeger family; she even went through that phase of being obsessed with vampires and werewolves as a teen! Mostly for fun. It couldn’t be real—it’s not physically possible! The growing pain from Mikasa’s wrists convinced a small part of her otherwise.

She forced herself out of bed and tentatively looked out into the hallway. When she saw the coast clear of dogs, she entered into the bathroom across the hall. After finding the medical kit underneath the sink, she started on removing her bandages. Mikasa had just removed the fastener when Annie knocked on the door.

A quick look at her told Mikasa that she had been outside working. There was bits of hay stuck on her hair, an evaporating sheen of sweat on her brow, and her jeans held the reminiscence of dirt.

“Good morning,” Mikasa greeted, resuming the task of unraveling the bandages on her right wrist.

“Good  _ afternoon _ ,” Annie clarified. “I’ll take care of that for you.” She made to grab Mikasa’s hands but she moved them away from her grasp.

Mikasa quoted Annie from last night. “I’m not a little girl.”

Annie paused briefly. “That was to get Eren and Armin out of here. I’m sure they would’ve loved to sleepover in the same room as you.”

Mikasa shrugged, not bothering to answer. Annie didn’t say anything and reclined against the door-frame, watching Mikasa slowly unwrap her right arm. Mikasa bit her tongue as the minimal task started to cause an inflamed sensation to vein out on her hand and forearm. Her limbs were awkward as she tried to hold them stick straight but that made it worse. Her hands began to shake, and she let out a noise of frustration. Wordlessly, she turned her semi-unwrapped arm to Annie.

Annie removed the bandages completely from both arms. She worked fast and meticulous. Mikasa couldn’t recognize her wrists. The pale skin is blotchy, a red-violet ring around the puncture wounds. The stitching appeared to be raised. There was a couple of punctures straying up her right forearm, and one pierced the marking on her left wrist, disfiguring it. She bit her lip a the sight of it. Her childhood balm was ruined.

After disinfecting, applying an antibacterial spray, and replacing the bandages, Annie said, “I received a few calls from shelters. It might be the dog lost from your place.”

“You think maybe one of them can keep him?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Annie informed, “Eren is in charge of him and he has to be returned to him. I’m just going in to confirm that it is Ernie. If it is, they’ll release him to me.”

They both then picked up the sound of nails rapidly clicking on wood floors. The sound paused outside in the hallway. Marshall first looked into Mikasa’s room, sniffing the air. It’s nose led it to the bathroom where they currently were. It began barking at Mikasa. Annie sighed and scooped him into her arms, turning to leave.

“Oh, I left food and pain relievers for you in the kitchen,” she said. “And don’t head into the backyard unless you really love dogs.”

Mikasa scoffed. “When pigs fly.”

Mikasa didn’t know what to do that didn’t require much movement from her arms. She thought on getting ahead on the project Mina and her were working on, but she couldn’t really type anything without wincing after a while. She tried doing planks but instead ate the carpet in Annie’s living room—thankfully cleared of dog fur. She did do a lower body and ab workout but it wasn’t as challenging without weights.

She ended up lying horizontally across the ottoman in the living room, T.V. muted on  _ “Schitt’s Creek,” _ a battered copy of  _ “The Remains of the Day” _ opened on a random page, and her phone lying on top of the open book, set on a social media site. The pain relievers had kicked in several hours ago. She felt a little hazy in the head. At least her arms weren’t killing her.

It took awhile for the scratching sound to register in her brain. Mikasa glanced at the clock—nearing nine o’clock. She pushed herself up and followed the noise into the kitchen. The glass doors displayed a dark backdrop and several dogs staring at Mikasa. The one scratching at the glass was Marshall, whom stopped when he saw Mikasa enter the kitchen.

“What the hell?” she mumbled to herself, walking closer to the doors. As she approached, the dogs shuffled back, a few of them growling. She peered out into the December darkness. She could make out the silhouette of the barn and the trees beginning the thicket. A chain-link fence enclosed the property, more so the dogs wouldn’t run off and any people wandering from the thicket to enter into the property.

Annie has said that there were people that had came into her backyard before the fence went up. Usually groups of high schoolers out on a dare, drunk off their asses. Or the occasional group of men, pretending to own the thicket and the barn, until they stumble upon the reckoning force of Annie.

Mikasa looked back at the dogs. An old Pekingese whining at her. “Oh, you’re hungry,” she realized. Mikasa chewed on her lower lip. She didn’t really know where Annie kept the dog chow. She first looked into the pantry, spotting a few large bags, but no bowls. She flicked the light-switch near the glass doors to illuminate the back patio. No bowls. Mikasa looked at the barn and groaned.

She went upstairs to her room to slide on a pair of old shoes, a hoodie, and as best as she could, she tied her hair into a low ponytail. Down in the pantry, Mikasa searched for a deep enough container to hold enough food to take back to the barn. After sifting through, she settled on an old flour sack. She peered into an open sack of food and grimaced at the smell. Picking up the scoop, she poured the kibble into the sack until she figured it was enough.

The dogs were still waiting by the door. Mikasa took a deep breath before unlatching the lock, their ears perking.

“You’re doing this because they haven’t been fed, and because Annie has already so much for you,” Mikasa muttered to herself. She slid open the door slowly and stepped out.

Marshall growled with a few others but stopped once they took a whiff of the sack Mikasa placed in front of her. Their tails began to wag as Mikasa slid the door closed behind her. Before she could think about just waiting for Annie to get back, she picked up the sack with both her hands and marched to the barn. The dogs crowded around her yet keeping their distance to her. The only one that got close to her was the Pekingese.

The hazy feeling in her head was slapped away from the cold. It numbed her face and chapped her lips. Her hands and arms were starting to strain from the weight of the food. Mikasa stopped for a short break when the pain was bordering on to burning. She looked at the distance left to the barn, and back to the house, and cursed Annie for living on five acres.

Mikasa's arms were blazing when they finally reached the barn. The doors were slightly opened and the dogs filed in. Mikasa followed after the Pekingese. They walked into near total darkness, save for the starlight that dimly lit the entrance. Mikasa looked around the entrance, finding a conveniently placed electric lantern hanging off the wall, plugged in. She took it down, her grip wobbling, setting it further into the dark and turned the dial.

Mikasa didn’t really expect much from the inside of the barn. There was a ladder further down leading up into the hay loft, a low water trough for the dogs, and a couple of rows of stalls filled with hay. Mikasa went from stall to stall, pouring kibble into ceramic bowls. Some of the dogs lowered their ears and growled when she got close, watching her tip the sack. Others stood off to the side until she moved on to the next. By the time she finished, she had broken into a sweat and settled herself on a bale of hay at the bottom of the ladder.

Mikasa hanged her arms loosely between her legs, elbows on her knees. The pain was now unbearable, the painkillers long worn off. She leaned back against the wall and peered up into the opening of the loft. Normally, she would be up to see what was up there. She’s a sucker for adventure. Her arms were wailing at her that they would drop if she even dared.

She stayed like that, hearing the sounds of the dogs eating and lapping water, and smelling the scent of hay with an undertone of dog. She found it almost enjoyable when the Pekingese came back to her and laid at her feet, its warm weight pressing on her shoes. The sweat drying off and leaving her skin cool. The pain was dying down in her arms to a dull throb.

She could have fallen asleep, if it wasn’t for someone barging in. Mikasa’s head snapped forward as she saw a figure, outlined by the dark behind them, holding something. The dogs were alert, too, but calmed down and bounded to the figure as they stepped further into the light of the lantern. The tension in her sore shoulders slipped away.

“So pigs are flying now,” Annie commented, lowering a Magnum 357.

Mikasa rolled her eyes and stood up. “Not anytime soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everybody bearing with my amateur writing! It means a lot, truly. It's a little difficult for how I want to write WAYCAB, since when I see everything happening it's like a movie, and unless you can see into my mind, it will have to be like this. I have finished writing the rest of the plot, it's the matter of proofreading and revising. I'm working on sharing the playlist that helps me write WAYCAB. It will at some point be posted in my bio.


	5. Howl

Rico removed her glasses and let out a heavy sigh. Without her glasses, her computer screen looked like nothing but a smudge of colors. The office bled together as her weary eyes roamed the room. A knock from the door prompted her to fix her posture and put her glasses back on. 

“Come in.”

The door opened to reveal her boss’ assistant, Anka. In one arm she carried a laptop and several files. “How’s it coming?”

Rico glanced back at her computer screen, paused on the image of a car in a parking garage—a white Altima. “Not so good,” she exhaled.

Anka stepped further into the office, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her. “Well, does anything seem relevant at least? I believe we gathered all the necessary film.”

“I think so, too,” she confirmed. “After going through most of the footage, I’m starting to see why Detective Smith asked to take on this case.”

Anka walked around to stand behind Rico. She leaned in over her shoulder to look at the screen. “There’s no license plate and the windows are heavily tinted. Whoever was driving had also chosen a pretty common car.”

Rico nodded, leaning back into her chair and pressing play to once again let the image roll. Normally, she would be professional at all times, especially around any of her higher-ups. She has known Anka prior to before she was promoted to be the lieutenant’s assistant, therefore, she could let herself be a slob around her when they’re by themselves. “This is the third time I’m reviewing the building footage. I’ve already seen the street footage, when they were following their target but nobody got off of the car at any of the stops.”

Anka flipped through the labels on the files in her arm. “Then it could be a stalker.”

“It could be,” she answered, pressing pause. “What I find odd is when the target was dropped off, they didn’t follow her nor the driver of the other vehicle. They simply went in the other direction, away from the crime scene and the target’s home.”

Anka plucked out a file. “It had been noted that her adopted brother is protective.”

Rico pulled out a couple images from a stack of paperwork off to the side. She traded the images for the file in Anka’s hand. “Her brother was coming in from the highway exit, as shown in those captures. What’s this?”

The date and time were displayed on the corners. The first picture showed a Jeep entering city lines. The camera took the picture from the streetlight across from the exit. His windshield wasn’t tinted and the light helped in showing his face. The second picture was the same, only it was zoomed in to confirm that it was the brother.

Anka slid her eyes from the capture to Rico. She was slightly waving the file in front of her face. “Those are copies of witness reports and the victim. I believe they’ll be able to help you out better.”

Rico opened it and scanned the first account from a witness. She frowned and scanned the other ones. “The dog is mentioned a lot, huh?”

“Yeah, he was missing for about two days.” Rico scrolled on her computer close to the beginning videos. Anka continued, “Her brother is actually in charge of it but because of lack of space he dropped the dog on her. It’s not really much of a guard dog, just a rescue.”

“Here,” Rico announced. She scooted to the side for Anka to get a closer look at the computer screen. She pushed play on the hallway of the victim’s apartment. The time on the corner of the screen displayed that it was a few moments after the victim had left her apartment.

Her brother walked out with a black dog. They rounded the corner to head towards the elevators. Rico forwarded through it again showing them leaving the building until returning about forty minutes later. The brother leaves again soon after leading the dog inside and closing the door. He bypasses two burly-looking figures, angling their faces away from the cameras. They stop in front of the victim’s apartment; one of them leaned in to cover the doorknob, his partner covering him from behind. They then pushed in and closed the door behind them, calmly.

“They seem to be familiar with where the cameras are,” Anka observed. Rico nodded her head and forwarded the video again. She stopped until the whole setting changed to the footage at the front of the building. “They never went back out through the front door? Is there a fire escape, by chance?”

“I believe so, and here the dog does something weird but smart,” said Rico.

The black dog ran and stopped at the center where the camera was. It stood for a moment looking back where it came from before bolting south. The bulky figures followed close to the edge of the camera’s endpoint, their backs to it.

“Wait, go back,” Anka said. Rico rewinded the video, the figures on the screen moving in reverse. “Right there! Zoom in on the dog’s mouth.” Rico did, and in between the dog’s jaws was a white disk.

Anka set down what she was carrying on the table and flipped through the file she just handed Rico. “Here,” she tapped on a line, and Rico got closer to look at where she was pointing. “The victim said nothing was stolen, but it looks like the dog has taken something with him.”

“Maybe it was jewelry. It can sometimes be hard to keep track of all of it,” suggested Rico.

Anka looked into Rico’s eyes. “Or do you think maybe it belonged to the men? It could explain why they targeted her, and why they chased the dog.”

Rico bit her lower lip as she captured the image and hit print “But what is it exactly?”

“I don’t know,” Anka sighed. “Just play the rest of the video. I’ll help you out, and then you can hand in all the notes to Smith tomorrow.” Anka pulled a chair from another desk in the room and sat herself next to Rico.

Rico glanced at the time on her wristwatch. “Weren’t you supposed to clock out an hour ago?”

Anka grinned. “So were you. Besides, it’s been awhile since we’ve worked together.”

“Alright, but only for thirty minutes. I want to get some sleep tonight,” Rico yawned.

* * *

 

“Ok, so on the next phase we will be working with a couple of people from social media and a team from production,” said Mina, walking beside Mikasa.

Mikasa nodded her head. “The meeting went better than expected. Thanks again for catching me up.”

“No problem,” Mina smiled. “I’m glad you’re getting better.”

“Thanks,” she said. Mikasa looked down at her sweater sleeves covering her wrists and the lower part of her palm. She silently thanked the heavens that she could wear long sleeves with a good excuse—it is December.

Mina has noticed how recently Mikasa has been staring at her forearms more often. It’s the first thing she turns to during pauses—unlike before when she would just stare at the clock. Since coming back, Mikasa had grown more quiet; her mind obviously somewhere else.

“Are you okay, Mikasa?”

“Hm?” Mikasa looked away from her arms to Mina. “Oh, yeah. I am.”

Mina pursed her lips and gently reached for Mikasa’s shoulder. “I don’t just mean if you’re alright physically. I also mean if you’re alright mentally.”

“Mentally?” Mikasa asked, more to herself. She thought back on how she was over the last week and a half. “There have been minor changes, but nothing too huge.”

They resumed walking. “A minor change can still do big things.” Mina pulled out her phone, and after tapping on it, Mikasa’s phone went off. Mikasa pulled it out to see Mina had sent her something. “Just think about it. Go when you feel like you need it.”

“Mina, you worry too much.”

“And this person treated me about that, and I am doing much better now.”

They reached the elevators and stepped inside. Just as the doors were about to slide shut, a hand reached in and stopped it. The doors slid back and Mikasa glanced up from her phone to see a tall, blond man board.

He mutters, “Almost missed it.” He looks between Mikasa and Mina before settling on Mikasa. “Are you Mikasa Ackerman-Jaeger?”

“That would be me,” Mikasa answered using a no-nonsense tone.

He pulled out his badge from his coat pocket and showed it to her. “I would like to talk to you about your case.”

Which is how Mikasa currently found herself sitting with Detective Erwin Smith in the company’s cafe. The lunch hour has long died down, and it was only them save for a couple of stragglers. Both of them weren’t drinking anything, and an awkward silence filled between them. Mikasa had been the one to break it.

“Isn’t it too late to have the break-in turn into a case?”

Erwin cleared his throat. “It is, but it was because I had to find enough evidence to prove that this was more than just a home invasion.”

Mikasa sighed. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Erwin cleared his throat again. “My team and I have already gotten the gist of what had happened, thanks to the accounts given by yourself and the people involved. From the footage we received, you were being followed that night up until you were dropped off, to as you reported, to look for your brother. The men that had entered your home knew where the cameras were located in the building and kept their faces concealed away from them. We have several theories as to how they are familiar with the building.”

Erwin paused to let Mikasa soak in the information. Her mouth had fallen slightly agape, arms crossed, and staring at level with his chest. She was being followed.

“Do you have any idea if you made any enemies recently or in the past?”

A shake of her head.

“In your account, you said nothing was stolen. In one of the captures from the security footage,” he pulls out a half folded paper and opens it in front of her, “you can see that the dog is carrying something in his mouth. Do you have any idea what it may be?”

Mikasa observed the print. It had been zoomed in on Ernie standing at the front of the apartment complex and looking off to the distance. In between his mouth was the pendant that Mikasa had thought lost.

“He took it,” she whispered.

Erwin leaned in. “Excuse me?”

Mikasa flipped her head up to look at Erwin. “That’s a pendant that Ernie found when I took him for a walk. He found it on a riverbank.”

“Does it hold any value?” he inquired.

“Well, I kind of grew attached to it,” she sheepishly admitted. “It’s made out of moonstone.”

Erwin nodded. “So far, I only wanted to ask of you about the object the dog was carrying. Starting today there will be police stationed near the building, in case anything does happen.” He handed her his business card from his breast pocket, and took the capture back to tuck it into his coat. “Contact me if anything arises.”

Mikasa regarded the card briefly before looking him in the eyes. “Can I ask a question?”

Erwin gestured with his hands, giving her the okay.

“Did you see the body from the dog park, by any chance?”

A beat.

“I have,” he confirmed, “The lab is having difficulty identifying the person, but we do believe it is one of them that entered your home.”

Mikasa hesitated with her question. “Was there anything—how should I say this—off? About the body, of course.”

Erwin frowned. “Aside from a bullet in the back of the head, no.”

What a dark sense of humor, is what Mikasa thought to herself.

“What did you mean by ‘off?’”

She chewed her lip, debating whether to tell him that what she saw that night was a much horrific and non-cheesy rendition of Michael Jackson’s werewolf. “I don’t want to be judged for what I saw.”

Erwin studied her face as she thought back on the night. Her eyes moved down to her arms on the table, and he saw them blank out. They were now a pair of grey, empty mirrors. Erwin doesn’t know what she saw that night. Her account gives a vague rundown of what happened in the dog park. He’s a man that loves to gamble, and gambling has given him enough patience to let things take their time.

He breaks her out of her spell by poking one of her hands. Her gaze snaps to his, lost before realizing where she was. “It is important that we know in full-detail what you saw in the dog park. Obviously you are not in the right place to be talking about it right now. Take your time with it, but I do urge you to see a professional.”

A quick twitch at the edge of her mouth and, “My coworker was telling me the same thing before your arrival.”

Erwin chuckled. “Well, seeing someone get killed in front of you does make you stand on edge.”

Weird, dark, and poorly-timed sense of humor indeed.

* * *

 

Mikasa pressed the button on her dash to illuminate the time. She was thirty minutes early for her appointment. She laid her head on her steering wheel and closed her eyes. After Mina’s and Erwin’s suggestion, and a full-blown one-sided conversation she had with Ernie in the middle of the kitchen floor at three in the morning two nights ago, she had made an appointment with a psychiatrist. The same one Mina had recommended.

Mikasa had asked for the soonest possible appointment they had, and they delivered. She illuminated the time again, took a deep inhale, and got out of her car to walk inside.

After filling out some paperwork, and a short wait, she was finally escorted to one of the few rooms in the building. It didn’t take long for the psychiatrist to walk in. The first thing that stood out to Mikasa was the psychiatrist’s eyepatch and messy ponytail.

“Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Hange Zoë,” they began with a calm voice. “Just Hange is fine, but I’m telling you, it took many years to get a Doctorate’s.”

“Nice to meet you, doctor,” she said, making Hange beam at her. Mikasa waited until Hange got comfortable in their seat. “I would like to start off by saying that I’m here because of a couple of people’s suggestions.”

Hange uncapped their pen. “That’s good. A lot of times people themselves don’t know what’s going on with them. It takes eyes from outside of your view to help.”

Mikasa takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what to do. This is the first time in my life I’m seeing a psychiatrist.”

“A lot of people use their time differently. There is no set way to go about this.” They shifted their glasses. “You can rant, you can say almost nothing, or if you want the cliché, we can go ahead and start with your childhood.”

Mikasa bit her lower lip.

“This is a safe place. Nothing will be disclosed to anyone unless you say so.”

Mikasa looked down at her forearms. She felt the rush from past days catching up to her. The flood of memories from that night. The cold, the blood and pain, the snarling, the wolf-man. “I saw a man get killed in front of me.”

The tell-tale sound of writing was heard, but it was distant to her ears.

Her face tugged into a frown. “I think it was a man. He was huge. He was covered in fur...and a snout like a dog.” She swallowed hard. “There was another one holding me in place. I think they also looked like the man I saw. Their nails were more like talons, and they were buried into my arms. I didn’t feel much of the pain then. I was too focused on that humanoid wolf in front of me and its howl. I thought for sure I was going to die.”

“How did you escape?” Came Hange’s voice, sounding as if they were at the end of a tunnel.

Mikasa’s eyes were now roaming around the room, avoiding eye contact with Hange. “Someone shot him. It only took a second. So fast yet everything slowed down as well.” She recalled opening her eyes to see constricted pupils. The switch from threatening to shock. “The look in their eyes as they fell forward. The other one got away. They were shot at, too… and then they aimed for me.”

“Did you see the person holding the gun?”

She shook her head. “Not as much. I was staring at the body. There was a disgusting sizzling sound coming from it. When I cook I have to shove that memory all the way to the back of my head.”

Mikasa paused. “I thought instead of having my throat opened, I was going to end up with another hole in my head. I got scolded instead. I saw a little bit of the person leaving, too. Lean and fast; first, they ran on two legs, and then crouched and disappeared on fours into the trees.” Mikasa was now gently caressing where her mark was disfigured. “The whole thing reminds me of this eerie dream I keep having.”

Hange looks up from their notes. “Do you mind telling me of this dream?”

Mikasa stops her ministrations where her mark is. Her mouth had already been drying but now her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. The dream played in her mind. Running on numb feet, the voice from the wind, the sounds of bloodthirsty dogs behind her. The fog clouding the edges of her vision. Everything about it felt so real from the burning in her lungs to the feeling of impending doom that follows her even after she wakes up.

Her lips flapped until she rasped, “I can’t.”

The rest of the hour continued with Hange more so coaxing the details about the night from Mikasa, and advising her on how to not forget but also face what happened. Albeit that a man had been killed in front of her, she felt it was better than talking about her consistent dream and her childhood before being adopted by the Jaegers.

When she asked for her diagnosis, Hange informed, “It looks to be a minor form of PTSD. You are showing nervous habits, such as continuously looking down at your arms and cutting yourself out from social settings. Flashbacks are also involved. From what you told me, you have trouble sleeping and it will only get worse. I can prescribe you a sleep aid for that.” She stops to scribble in her notes. “Minor anxiety, but do you feel ready to take a pill for that?”

Mikasa bit her lower lip. She can work with the sleep aid - Lord knows she needs a good night of sleep—but a benzodiazepine? “I don’t think so. I think I can manage it.”

Hange scribbles some more. “If it does get serious, I am prescribing it.”

Once they ran out of time, Hange handed her a slip of paper with her prescribed sleep aid. They shook hands and Mikasa thanked her. She was almost out the door when she turned back to hand Hange a business card.

“I give my permission for you to contact this person and hand them the information about what happened on that night two weeks ago. I was here partly because of his recommendation.”

Hange took the card, not even glancing at it, and grinned. “I shall see to it, and come back in whenever you need to.”

Mikasa returned the grin and left the building feeling inexplicably lighter. Who knew that just by talking to someone she could feel like this. Mikasa resolves to taking Mina’s advice more often. In her car, her phone alerted her of a new message. She opened it to see an invitation from Historia. She shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t. Yet a small voice talked her into sending an affirmative answer.

Hange sat in their office, staring at the business card in front of them and their new patient’s file. Once again, they’ll be working together. Hange reviewed the notes taken from the session. They began to separate the necessary notes for when the detective would arrive.

A while later, a knock sounded and Hange called the person in. They didn’t look up from their work but could feel the presence of the person sitting at the chair in front of them.

“I hope I’m not keeping you from any of your other patients.”

Hange waived their hand in a dismissal manner. “I have no more for the rest of the day. It isn’t until after Christmas that I get booked with patients.”

A short chuckle erupted from Erwin. “The holidays do that, alright.” He observed Hange writing out on a pad, copying down what was necessary from the session. “She gave her consent?”

Hange slid over the notes towards him. “She did. Only about that night and nothing about her personal life.”

Erwin picked up the pad. His eyes ran across and down the page. Now he has a more solid account from the victim. His eyes paused on an unfinished line—the description of the man holding her.

“What’s the rest for this line here?” Erwin pointed at the line. “Huge, covered in fur, and what?”

Hange scanned the original notations. “And snout like a dog.”

Erwin’s brow furrowed. “Snout like a dog,” he repeated.

“Also talons and one of them howled,” they said, nonchalant.

Hange looked up from the page to see Erwin tapping on his phone. His brows furrowed and a vein was popping up on his left temple; something that only happens when he’s concentrating.

Hange sighed. “She could have been disoriented that night. I’m not sure if this is another for sure.”

Erwin stared at the small screen in his hands. He didn’t bother to directly address Hange. “You used to jump for this shit. It’s what helped you overcome your insecurity.”

“Used to, and it costed me an eye and a close friend,” Hange muttered grimly.

At this he finally looked at Hange directly. They were obviously reminiscing in the way their fingertips rested over the eyepatch. They settled their glasses on top of their head to do so. He could see the one eye they had left was directed at the photograph framed on their desk. His once gung-ho friend looked exhausted.

Erwin sighed. “I can’t apologize for what happened because none of us are at fault.”

Hange lowered their glasses. “I don’t expect you to apologize. I knew about the consequences. He did, too. All of us did!”

Erwin slid back the pad to Hange, a poor attempt at changing the subject. “Disoriented or not, she still has seen too much. Did you know that she described the pendant? She has also gotten attached to one of them.”

Hange pursed their lips. “How does she know what it looks like?”

“She said the dog she is looking after found it,” he said, rubbing his hand across his forehead. “If she comes back in, try to find out if she knows more.”

Hange exhaled through their nose and resumed to copying down the notes. Erwin had turned his attention back to his phone.

“He came in, by the way.”

Erwin looked away from the blue light to his old friend. Their head was bent down, tensely writing.

“Your old partner is still alive.”

Erwin swallowed thickly. “I know.”

* * *

 

Mikasa had spent the next few days with relative ease after following Hange’s advice. She had worked up the courage slowly by making herself feel powerful by training at the gym. She had even taken up yoga at Mina’s recommendation. The sleep aid had been helping her get dreamless sleep.

Then on the afternoon on her day off, she felt like she could conquer what had happened on that night. Before she could change her mind, she had attached Ernie’s leash to his collar and walked out the door to the South Dog Park. Instead of having Ernie lead her like most of the time when she walks him, she lead him there.  

There were few other people in the park braving the cold to walk their dogs. Ernie trotted beside Mikasa, her pace slowing down the closer they got to the area. Ernie must have sensed her growing her nerves. He gently nudged her hand when she came to an almost complete stop. She looked down at him. Ernie looked up at her.

Mikasa almost asked the dog if she should continue. She may have already had a one-sided conversation with him before, but it still felt weird to her to talk to an animal about a serious subject. She doesn’t know how Eren can spill all his secrets to his foster dogs so easily.

Ernie nudged her with his snout again. He walked a couple of paces outwards from her side. He was letting her decide, she assumed.

Mikasa chewed on her cheek. She could get it over with now. Face what happened on that night and choose on whether to believe what she saw, or not. She could turn back, too. Head back home and wait until her later plans with Historia. She would still carry an extra weight on her shoulders, though, if she does turn back. She can always return later.

Mikasa touched her disfigured mark hidden underneath her coat. She started to turn back and walk away. Ernie followed.

_ “Turn back.” _

Mikasa stopped abruptly. She recognized the voice. She looked around to see if anybody was near. The only other person was a child drowning in a bubble coat throwing a ball for its mutt. Nobody was close enough to say that.

She tilted her head down at Ernie. He tilted his head to the side. Did he talk?

A gentle gust whispered through her hair.  _ “Closer.” _

Mikasa turned around again, but nobody was behind her. She frowned. Ernie whimpered. She felt a tug at the back of her brain, and automatically she began walking towards the area.

It felt like she was dreaming. Her vision was foggy at the edges. She could hear herself breathing. A calm rhythm picking up speed. Her body is on autopilot and all she can do is watch.

Her legs stopped for her. She was facing a section of the cluster of trees and bushes that is at the center of the park. Turning her head to the right, she could see where she had hopped the fence.

The yellow tape had long been taken away from where the murder happened. There was a tattered piece of it fluttering from where it was stuck on the bushes. Mikasa had been told that the tape had been kept up for an unexpectedly long time. Same goes for her apartment. She didn’t return to it until about five days later.

Mikasa didn’t hear Ernie protesting beside her. Her legs were moving again towards the bushes. Ernie reluctantly followed. Once they cut through the bushes and into the clearing, the fog around her eyes vanished. The pulling sensation in her head stopped, and her breathing relaxed.

Mikasa didn’t know what happened to her. The dream feeling was gone and she felt naked. It did allow her to see the clearing as it is. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting—maybe blood still staining the grass, or a chalk outline. Just an empty space surrounded by bushes and trees. Another poop spot in the middle of a dog park.  

Somehow it seemed less menacing.

“It’s over exaggerated in my head,” she sighed to the air. “This is nothing.”

She acknowledged Ernie beside her, rubbing his ears. “Hey, if you feel like pooping, do it in this area. Shit on my nightmares for me.”

* * *

 

Mikasa is starting to regret agreeing to Historia’s plans. After the dog park and dropping off Ernie at her apartment, and heading to the hair salon, she felt bone-tired. She had received and ignored Historia’s texts on her commute back home. A bad idea. When she parked, Historia appeared out of thin air and tapped on her window.

Of course Mikasa had jumped. She waived off an undercover police officer that is stationed near her spot.

“You must really want to get tased,” Mikasa said, arming her car alarm.

Historia touched Mikasa’s newly shorn hair. “Oh my God! You’re hair! Why so much?”

“I felt like I needed a change,” Mikasa muttered as she ran her fingers through her chin-length do.

“Well, I like it,” decided Historia. They began to make their way into the lobby. “So, are you ready to head out?”

Mikasa thought of an excuse. “I feel really exhausted. I was thinking of sitting out tonight.”

“You agreed two days ago. Come on,” Historia pleaded. “Get into the Christmas spirit!”

“Yeah, Mikasa! Get into the Christmas spirit!” cheered Jean from behind the desk. His laptop was opened on the desk, possibly tuned in on a show. He closed it shut and shoved it into his satchel.

“See, what he said,” Historia giggled. Hey eyes widened as an idea came to her. “Why don’t you come with us, Jean? If you’re off, of course.”

Jean gave her a puzzled look. “Go where? And isn’t this between you two?”

“You butted in,” Mikasa retorted.

“We’re going to a club my girlfriend is DJ'ing at,” announced Historia.

“You finally got a girlfriend? When?” Mikasa asked, disbelief in her voice.

“I’ll tell you all about it if you come,” Historia baited.

Mikasa pursed her lips. “Let me just go up to my place. Then I’ll text you my decision.”

“Why?” Historia asked.

“It all depends on how I feel after I see the mess Ernie has left me,” she said, heading to the elevator.

Historia sidled up to the desk. “How’s it going between you two?”

Jeans shrugs. “It was one date. I can tell that she isn’t into me.”

“How so?”

“She told me when she got back,” he deadpanned. “She said I reminded her too much of her brother. Also that she doesn’t have an interest in being with anybody right now. Which is understandable. But we are friends.”

“At least your friends.” Historia narrowed her eyes at him. “If she comes or not, are you still coming?”

Jean swung his satchel onto his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll follow. I need to burn off some steam anyways. Finals ended a few days ago.”

Historia’s phone vibrated. She smirked when she read the new message.

**Mikasa uwu:** I’m coming down. Give me five minutes.

_ 9: 19 PM _

* * *

 

The inside of the nightclub was decorated with little plastic pine trees, snowflakes and mistletoe hanging from the ceiling, and covered in a truckload of silver glitter. Very festive even though Christmas isn’t until the next four days. There’s nothing more festive than loud music, unabashed grinding, and unreasonably priced drinks.

They didn’t stand in line when they arrived. Historia simply walked past all the people in line, and after giving her name, walked in roping along Jean and Mikasa. One of the perks of dating the DJ, Mikasa thought. Inside, Historia led them to a booth already occupied by several people. Mikasa recognized a few from work. Mina had waived her over and bought her a vodka soda.

“Have fun!” She shouted into her ear over the pounding of the bass.

Mikasa surveyed the club while taking off her coat. She was surprised that the place was already picking up and it wasn’t even midnight yet. There was still more people yet to come in. The DJ booth sat on an elevated floor overlooking the crowding dance floor. If Mikasa concentrated and waited for the flashing lights to illuminate the area, she could possibly see Historia dancing beside another figure.

Jean and Mina tried to coax her to head down to the floor with them but she denied. They left when she promised she would go when she felt more at ease.

Mikasa sat herself down at the booth and nursed her drink. She relaxed more when Franz, from production, and Hannah, from HR, left to go dry hump each other on the floor. Mikasa wasn’t much of a clubbing type of person. She had gone out to them several times during college, when it felt like a novelty. The novelty wore off after every time she was designated driver for her pissed-drunk friends. There was also the memorable night when Armin—who drank for the first time when he became of age—had exploded thin, yellow-brown vomit all over her. Her and Eren had nursed him together through his first hangover. Never again did he over-drink after Eren recounted to him that he puked his guts on her.

Mikasa was scrolling through her phone when Historia and a woman leaning on her came to the booth. Historia slid into the seat beside her and the woman stood standing to face the two.

“Are you doing okay?” Historia said out loud into her ear.

“Never been better,” she lied. She would like to be home right now, popping a sleep aid and heading into a dreamless slumber. She left when she saw Ernie sprawled across her bed napping. She had to get out there before she could murder the dog.

Historia took ahold of the woman’s hand. “Mikasa, this is my girlfriend Ymir. Ymir, my best friend and coworker Mikasa.”

The woman, Ymir, reached out to shake Mikasa’s hand. Mikasa noticed how her pale skin contrasted against Ymir’s tanned skin.

“I’ve heard all about you,” Ymir said, her voice effortlessly carrying to her.

“I’ve barely found out about you today,” she managed to say over the noise. “Aren’t you supposed to be down at the booth, right now?”

Ymir sat down on Mikasa’s other side. Up close and whenever a light flashed by, Mikasa noticed she also had freckles spattered on her face and eyes like a cat. “It’s my break. I’ve got my buddy covering for me.”

They fell into idle chatter. Ymir and Historia met at an art museum that Historia was promoting for by the company. Historia had been staring at a watercolor abstract painting when Ymir approached her. They explained to each other about what they saw from the painting. From an opened frog to labia. From strangers to lovers.

Mikasa felt the tension in the atmosphere. She picked up her empty glass and moved across Historia. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Historia squeezed her hand as she passed by. Mikasa gave her a small smile. She approves.

At the bar, Mikasa exchanged the vodka soda for water. She glanced back at the booth to see that Historia and Ymir were now stuck to each other, whispering. Mikasa felt that Ymir was good for Historia. As long as she made her happy—and she didn’t have to go and beat someone else up—she is alright with the relationship.

“You’re not really into the holiday spirit.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man get closer to her. He was edging into her personal bubble.

“I believe in hot cocoa and Home Alone movies as the holiday spirit,” she replied. “Not living in Miley Cyrus’  _ ‘We Can’t Stop’ _ music video.” She turned to look at him as he laughed.

He is taller than her. Curled, dark hair and a trimmed beard. Clear, unblemished caramel skin. The definition of tall, dark, and handsome.

“I hope you mean the first and second movies. The third one was never supposed to happen,” he said with a playful grin. Mikasa picked up on his Spanish accent.

“Mhm, the third one was a dumpster fire,” she agreed. “Why are you over here by yourself?”

He pointed to a group of men laughing at a booth. “Celebrating my friend’s birthday. He just turned of age.”

Mikasa snorted. “He’s going to feel terrible tomorrow.”

“That’s part of the fun,” he laughed. “My name’s Elias.”

“Mikasa.”

“Mikasa,” he said, relishing the syllables. “Want to get out of here?”

Mikasa finished her water. She has been lectured by Carla many times to never leave alone with a stranger. She has seen all the terrible things that have happened to women on the news. She could say she has to clean up after Ernie. Historia wouldn’t buy it because she left because of the mess. Despite all of that, she did want to leave.

She pointed to the booth where everybody has gathered plus a girl with short hair. “Meet me there when you’re ready.”

At his nod, she went back to the booth while he went in the other direction. The group beamed at her when they saw her coming.

“Hey, guys, I’m gonna be heading home now,” she announced. She picked up her coat and was slipping it on.

“It’s still early!” said the short-haired girl draped on Jean. Mikasa thought she must be aging faster than her peers if she now thought midnight as late.

“Well, I have a dog to clean up after,” Mikasa started.

Historia was about to debunk her excuse when Elias popped up beside her. “Ready to go?”

Everybody’s face was shocked at the table, save for the new girl and Ymir. Of course they would be! They all didn’t think that Mikasa would be leaving with a guy she just met. She only hoped that if anything does go wrong, they would remember how Elias looked. The main reason she told him to meet her here.

“Yeah.” She turned back at the table. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Mikasa was glad to be out of the nightclub. Outside of the building the line was still long and there were stragglers talking and smoking. The downtown area of the city always lit up at night. This night, however, it seemed to be more lively under the full moon.

“Care to walk around?” Elias propositoned.

Mikasa thought it over for a moment before agreeing. They set off at an easy pace. Mikasa was actually enjoying herself. She felt at ease around Elias, pacified. They talked about everything and nothing.

Mikasa didn’t noticed when they left the downtown area. Her eyes blinked slower as she tried to look at her surroundings. Buildings were dark; old, cracked sidewalk; groups of people gathered in alleyways and open lots.

She felt all warning signs go off but she wasn’t reacting. She couldn’t react. Mikasa stumbled and she felt an arm go around her waist.

“Elish,” her voice slurred.

Elias pulled her tighter against his side. He dragged her along, shushing her.

Mikasa forced her body to struggle. She only managed to wiggle through the haze. It did slow him down slightly. He then stopped to pick her up and toss her over his shoulder effortlessly. Mikasa is and felt like a sack of flour. He resumed at a much faster pace. The sidewalk blurred.

Elias ducked behind the remains of a rotting wooden fence. He followed a forgotten path—the stench of urine, cheap beer, and kerosene made his nose twitch—stopping in front of a rusty metal door at the side of a brick building. He looked around. It didn’t matter anyways, this part of the city was mostly left abandoned. Only squatters and drug addicts could be witnesses but they knew better than to be snitches. He pushed the door in, moaning on its ancient hinges, and walked in.

The building used to be an auto shop. The scent of rubber and oil still permeates the air. Splotches stained the concrete ground and the only two rotary lifts looked ready to fall any day. Same goes for the maze of beams above them.The bay doors were forever shut. The minimal light that entered was from the high windows above said doors.

A white light suddenly flashed onto his face from the other side of the empty space. Elias squinted and held his hand in front of him. A man’s voice came from the void behind the light.

“Who is it?”

Elias shifted Mikasa’s weight on his shoulder and straightened his spine. “Romano. I brought the target.”

The light lowered and a plump man strolled after it. He came into the light offered from the windows. Behind him stood three men, a ferocious look gleaming from their eyes.

Elias lowered Mikasa down onto the greasy concrete. She mumbled and her head moved lazily from side to side. Her half-lidded eyes kept coming back to him. He held her gaze indifferently.

“I’m surprised,” the man drawled. “The men I was loaned a few weeks ago couldn’t capture her. But you go in yourself and catch her like nothing. What’s your secret?”

“I’m just that good,” Elias bragged. “Now, are you going to dispose of her properly?”

The man let out a bark of laughter. “Pride is a sin, Romano. And I’m not the disposer, I’m just meant to capture and deliver her to my contractor.”

“I hope I at least get credit. I didn’t take this job without my reasons.”

A couple of the men moved past the man. As they did so they began to transform their bodies. Thick fur sprouted from their bodies and their hands morphed into claws. Their faces elongated into snouts, and their bones shifted and thickened. One of them went into the full form of a wolf. The other kept his halfway, keeping a more human shape.

From where she laid, drunk from God knows what, she saw everything. Her heart rate increased and her breathing became more shallow. It shouldn’t be possible! She tried to get up, run, fight, anything! Her body refused.

“I have my reasons, too,” the man said over the low growls. “But I’m a sinner and would like to keep my image.”

Elias’ eyes darted from the werewolves to Mikasa and the man. He stepped over Mikasa’s body and dared them to move. They kept growling at him, threads of drool dripping from their jaws. He kept his body tense, his hand moving into the inside of his coat.

The humanoid wolf threw himself at him. Elias gritted his teeth, grabbing ahold of the wolf’s torso and pushing himself along with him away from Mikasa. Elias bit his tongue and groaned as the wolf chomped on his shoulder. Still holding onto his torso, he sank his fingers further into his fur and lifted him over his head to throw him against the bay doors. The wolf’s fangs were dragged from his shoulder. He could feel liquid heat oozing out.

Elias looked back at Mikasa to see the other other wolf over her and pulling at her coat. He’s a ways of her but she still wasn’t moving. Elias cursed himself. He reached into his coat again to pull out a revolver. He aimed but didn’t shoot as the wolf from before barreled into him, knocking him down.

The revolver skidded across the floor. Elias was faced down on the oiled concrete. He elbowed the now fully-transformed wolf’s snout to turn himself over. The wolf was snapping at Elias’ neck, blood from his nose and drool decorating Elias’ face. His large paws were pressing down on his chest. Elias held his forearm against the wolf’s neck, his other arm seeking purchase on the wolf’s body. When he found a good hold on the wolf, two consecutive rounds sounded.

Elias arched his head to see the man and the third wolf-shifter bleeding on the ground. A sizzling sound was being emitted from the wolf-shifter.

Everything seemed to pause. The wolf above Mikasa stopped tugging at her coat and instead faced in the direction of the figure emerging into the moonlight. A short, lean man.

Elias gritted his teeth. The wolves howled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part is eight chapters. The second part is still pending but I'm hoping not to exceed twenty chapters in total. Sorry if it seems rushed. I just want to get to the action!


	6. Adoption

Mikasa has never been more frustrated in her life. The one time she uses a guy to leave and somehow he drugged her without offering her a drink. She has been brought to some trafficker and her body is refusing to react. To top it all off, there is a wolf on top of her trying to tug her towards the said trafficker. She’s glad she’s heavy.

Mikasa kept staring at the wolf on top of her through the haze. It felt similar to what she felt in the park, yet the one at the park was dream-like. This haze felt more natural—as if she could shake it off much more easier.

She continued to will her body to move. She imagined herself sending signals throughout her body, to get her circulation pumping. Mikasa almost wanted to cry when she started to the feel her fingers on her right hand. She didn’t move them right away, in case the wolf noticed. Instead she continued to concentrate on reviving her hand.

Once she felt most of her arm, she heard a groan a ways from her and skittering. It stopped close to her head. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see something made of metal. She looked back at the wolf in front of her, still struggling to tug her with his jaws. She made to reach out to the object but stilled when two rounds sounded.

A ring echoed in her ears, and slowly her head turned to see the man on the ground. The other wolf that didn’t shift was also face down, a sizzling sound coming from him. A man then appeared from the darkness and into the light. His face was painted with a deadly look.

The wolf on top of her had stopped tugging on her coat to face the man. It howled, both werewolves did, the synchronized tune penetrating the ringing in her ears.

The man dashed forwards and the wolf above her mimicked. The man aimed his gun but was knocked back by the wolf. He wrestled with it, trying to avoid being bitten by its teeth. The wolf pressed its weight onto the wrist holding the gun. It loosened his grip, and with the wolf concentrated on removing his gun, he used his leg to push the wolf over his head. He turned himself over, crouching. The wolf ducked as well and they both circled each other before clashing again.

Mikasa turned her head to look back at the object that skidded to her. A revolver. Feeling her arm even more, she reached out and grabbed it. Turning her head and moving her arm across her body, she faced the ongoing match between the man and the wolf.

They kept moving fast, making it difficult for her to pinpoint the wolf. They crossed in between the light and the darkness covering the rest of the building. Mikasa pulled the hammer and heard a bullet click into place. She had shot a gun before during a camping trip with Armin’s grandfather. He told her she had a good eye, and she hoped that he was right.

Mikasa needed to get a better leverage. She groaned and willed her body to react. A cold, prickly feeling thrummed through her body. The duo threw themselves under full darkness. Only the sounds of growling, scuffling, and meat hitting meat could be hear. She could faintly see the outlines of their bodies in the shadows. Mikasa continued to imagine her circulation running, sending blood flowing to get her back up.

She gasped when she felt the chilled concrete beneath her. Mikasa used her core to pull herself up at an angle. She faced where she could hear the noises occuring. A faint shadow line showing her where they might be. Her abs started to burn as she held her body in an obtuse angle. The prickly feeling was now spiking her. Mikasa held up her arm and aimed. Following Grandpa Arlert’s advice, she squeezed the trigger.

The ringing in her ears returned. She was barely able to register a high-pitch cry from the dark. Mikasa used her burning core to continue pulling herself until she was sitting. Her ass was numb as well as her legs and left arm. The prickly feeling fading away. The revolver was warm against her palm. She lowered her arm to rest it against her thigh, careful not to let the hot muzzle touch her. She glanced at the rusty door where Elias had brought her in. She debated on whether or not to start dragging herself towards it when the man emerged from the dark.

He had scratches on his face and his clothes were rumpled. They were dusty and blood soaked the front of his white T-shirt. He moved towards Mikasa just as the body of the other werewolf was thrown at him.

His reflexes took action and he kicked the body away. It landed on the concrete with a dull thud. He frowned at Elias limping towards him. His pants were torn at the ankle, displaying how badly the jaws of the wolf damaged him. The ringing in Mikasa’s ears subsided.

“This is my bounty!” Elias growled.

The man only stared.

“I came to finish the job that you couldn’t!”

The man lifted a cautious hand. “This isn’t the one.”

Mikasa’s brow furrowed at hearing his voice. She swears she has heard his voice before.

Elias’ eyes filled with rage. “All of my work didn’t lead me to nothing! If she isn’t the one, it doesn’t matter—she is still one of them!”

Mikasa started to feel her legs again. The wiggling of her toes inside her boots confirmed this. She looked at Elias and the man from underneath her hair. She didn’t really know what the fuck they were talking about. Whoever “the one” or whatever “one of them” is, she knows she isn’t who they’re looking for.

Elias’ nostrils flared and he swiftly aimed at Mikasa. It was the same gun the man had dropped earlier. Mikasa reacted and she aimed back at him with his revolver. She did her best to contain any shaking. Still, her hand trembled slightly. The sizzling sound from the wolf bodies was the only thing breaking the silence. Mikasa fought the urge to gag.

The man slowly circled Elias to stand between him and Mikasa. He held a cautious hand in front of him and one to Mikasa.

“Don’t shoot,” he uttered to her over his shoulder. He focused back on Elias.

“I’m giving you a chance to walk away. Cops check up on this part of the city for kicks. And I’m sure none of us still want to be here when the junkies send them this way.”

Elias was looking past the man to Mikasa. His eyes reminded her of the wolves while they were transforming—bloodthirsty.

“Elias!” barked the man.

Elias’ eyes darted from Mikasa to the man.

“You won’t have another shot if we continue to stay here,” he urged.

Elias’ eyes kept darting between Mikasa and the man. His eyes lingered on Mikasa before finally lowering the gun. She did the same.

_ “Chingada madre,” _  Elias gritted.

The man motioned to Mikasa to hand him the revolver. He then walked to Elias and they traded arms, glaring at each other all the while. He strolled back to Mikasa, slipping his handgun into his coat, and held a hand out for her.

“Can you stand?”

Mikasa ignored his hand, shakily pushing herself up on her feet. Her muscles felt as if she hadn’t used them in years. The man pressed a hand to her lower back, steadying her.

“Next time,” Elias announced, walking backwards into the dark, “I won’t give you the chance to talk.”

He stopped at the verge of the dark. He regarded them as his body began to change. His body lowered and elongated; his arms and legs reformed as they grew out new ligaments; his skull rounded itself and his face became feline; his caramel skin grew short, sandy fur. A puma.

He roared at them and dashed into the void.

No words came from Mikasa. She doesn’t know how to react to anything at all. The sizzling sound in the air didn’t faze her. An echo was the only thing traveling in her ears. It took her a moment to realize that the echo was the man talking to her.

She shook her head and rubbed her eyes with her hands. “I’m sorry?”

“I said that we should call someone to come get you,” he said flatly.

Mikasa’s brow furrowed again. His voice.

She kept staring at him as he removed his hand from her back to walk towards the bodies. He stopped in front of the body that was thrown at him. He grabbed the hind legs and dragged the body towards the dark, a trail of maroon followed after it.

Her eyes widened. The voice from the night in the dog park tumbled back to her.

_ “Call someone once I’m gone, you hear?” _

Mikasa began to walk backwards to the door. She could still hear him moving the body in the dark. She reached out behind her to feel for the doorknob. Once she found it, she soundlessly turned it. She didn’t sprint out of the building until she heard him stop moving the body.

Her legs trembled at each step she landed. Her lungs were scorching with every labored breath. Her eyes watered from the cold air. A prickly feeling was running down her spine. She isn’t in the best form to run but all Mikasa could concentrate on is to be far away from the man.

She fumbled for her phone in her coat pocket, hastily typing in her security code. She slid to call the first name that appeared on her contact list.

The phone rang as the buildings bled together. Everything looked the same to her as she passed people knocked out on the doorsteps of an apartment building and empty lots occupied by small groups of people. She kept urging for them to pick up as the tone continued.

At the final tone, they finally picked up. They didn’t even get a chance to answer.

“Hel—”

“Please, Annie!” Mikasa yelled into her phone. “Please, I need you! I’m in Fritz District and I need you to come for me!”

“Calm down,” Annie soothed. On the other side of the line she was quickly getting dressed. “Try to find somewhere where there are people. Someplace where I can pinpoint you down.”

Mikasa kept running straight ahead. She whipped her head around, trying to find anything. The prickly feeling intensified at the base of her neck when she heard the stomping of footsteps behind her. Mikasa sped up. The person behind her sped up. Without thinking, Mikasa hanged a hard left.

“Mikasa, are you still there?” Annie asked.

In the distance, Mikasa saw a place to take refuge. Her throat had dried and she rasped out to Annie where she could find her. She picked up her pace and ran to the building. She pushed the door in and slammed it shut behind her, reclining against it to catch her breath. The intensity at the back of her neck ebbing away.

The place appeared to be empty despite the lights being on. The foyer was dark save for a soft violet light from a sign against the brick wall above a leather upholstered bench _. Luna Lapis. _

Mikasa walked through the doorway into a room with lanterns providing a glow from the walls they hung from. A large burgundy curtain took over a corner of the back of the room. There were tables with their chairs on top of them. The stools at the bar were also put away. The kitchen behind the bar was dead quiet and dark. A rustic bistro meets sports-bar look.

Mikasa looked back at the entrance, almost expecting the man to burst through the door, before walking towards the bar.

“Hello?” She said aloud, pulling off a stool from the bar. She doesn’t know how long it would take for Annie to get there. The least she could do is to stay alert and wait.

Mikasa pulled out her phone again. She was about to slide on Annie’s name again when she heard footsteps from behind the curtain. It sounded like they were ascending. Mikasa jumped to her feet and grabbed the stool with her free hand. Just in case.

A girl’s head poked through the curtain. Her eyes roamed the room until they found Mikasa at the bar.

“We’re closed, ya know?” she said stepping out from behind the curtain. “You can come back tomorrow at seven in the evenin.’”

Mikasa loosened her hold on the stool. This girl didn’t appear to be a threat. Wild, but not a threat. “Please, I’m being followed and I’m waiting on a friend to come for me.”

The girl’s eyes widened in horror. She quickly approached Mikasa. “Jesus, are you hurt? How long have they been followin’ you?”

Mikasa flinched at the touch of the girl’s hand settling on her forehead. The girl retrieved her hand as if she had been burned.

“You’re pale! Sit, I’ll get'cha some water.”

The girl shoved Mikasa back on the stool and walked around the bar. She soon settled a glass in front of her. Mikasa hesitantly took a sip before she downed it completely. She didn’t know she was so parched. The girl refilled her glass.

“Aside from your friend, is there anyone else you wanna call? Maybe the police?” She pronounced police as  _ POH-lease _ .

Mikasa shook her head. “I just need my friend to get here. I’m not sure if he is still waiting out there.”

The girl smacked her mouth. “I swear, men just can’t take the hint. Never take ‘no’ for an answer. I tell my brothers if a girl says ‘no’ then that’s that.”

Mikasa drank her water. She was thinking how this girl is far from what Mikasa is experiencing. She couldn’t spill to her what she saw, though. So she kept quiet, nodded her head in agreement and set back an empty glass.

“Do you own this place?” Mikasa asked.

“Uh-huh! Well, co-own but I am the one that mostly runs it,” she informed proudly. “I don’t get a lot of customers because of the area, and the hours. On weekends, though, it can fill up and that keeps it going.”

Hearing the girl talk alleviated her nerves. She pointed to the curtain from where she came from.

“Why a curtain?”

The girl giggled. “It looks good, and I like it.” She came around the bar and towards the curtain. She pulled it back to reveal a staircase. “When requested, I host parties down there. Nothin’ much but a bar and some tables.”

Her phone started buzzing and Mikasa glanced at the screen before answering.

“I’m in front of the building,” came Annie’s voice.

“That was faster than what I was expecting."

“You want me to come inside for you,” Annie said, ignoring her comment.

“No, I’ll head out.”

She hanged up her phone and stood. “I better get going. Sorry for burdening you.”

“Pfft! It was no burden,” said the girl, walking Mikasa to the door. “Women should always look after each other. And you should come on back next time! When we’re open, ya know?”

Mikasa glanced at the violet name of the place and smiled at the girl. “I will. Thank you so much…”

The girl reached out a hand, grin on her face. “Magnolia. Isabel Magnolia.”

Mikasa took it, absorbing the warmth from the girl. “Mikasa Ackerman.”

The girl looked at her in silence momentarily, the corners of her smile softening. “Well, you are a pleasure, and you are welcome here whenever.”

Annie gave Mikasa the once over in the car. “Your place?”

Mikasa exhaled deeply and melted into her seat. “Actually, is it alright if I can stay at your place tonight?”

“Sure,” Annie responded, and she switched the turn signal.

Isabel kept looking out the main window at the car until it disappeared. She huffed and looked over her shoulder.

He had let himself in through the back of the kitchen, and now he occupied the stool where only moments ago Mikasa sat. He had removed his coat and thrown it on the bar. He was busy peeling off his blood-stained shirt, a look of pure disgust at the sight of maroon on white. He returned back the scowl Isabel had been burning onto him.

“I thought I taught you guys enough to know about consent,” Isabel drawled.

* * *

 

Mikasa bolted upright in bed the next morning. It took her a second to realize she wasn’t in her room, or her apartment for that matter. It was the same room Annie offered her about a month ago. Mikasa glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand and flopped back onto the bed. It was eight in the morning on a Saturday; only six hours of sleep.

Mikasa laid her forearm across her eyes. The baseball tee she borrowed from Annie didn’t fully covered her scars. She could feel the roughness of them through the thinness of her eyelids. Mikasa and Annie didn’t talk much during the car ride. There was a couple of times where Mikasa did want to spill everything to Annie, but she bit on her tongue every time.

Aside from not having clothes to sleep in, Mikasa also didn’t have her sleep aid. It took awhile to actually go to sleep. When she finally did, the dream—nightmare?—returned. And it kept repeating. After last night, the snarls and numbness in the dream were more vivid.

Mikasa sighed and forced herself out of bed. She opened the door to head downstairs and waiting for her was Marshall. Mikasa cursed and the dog erupted with high-pitched barks.

“Excuse me,” she muttered, sidestepping the dog.

Marshall followed her barking all the way into the kitchen until he saw Annie glaring at him. She merely picked him up and placed him outside. He continued to bark through the glass until Annie closed him off by covering the door with the curtain.

“Breakfast?” Annie proffered.

“I’m good at making french toast.”

Neither said much over breakfast. Annie kept eyeing Mikasa over her mug of coffee. Mikasa caught her look and felt the atmosphere between them thicken. Mikasa broke it.

“You obviously want to say something.”

Annie slowly chewed her food. “You should really stop heading out on Friday nights.”

“Yeah,” Mikasa said emptily.

Last night’s events rolled through her brain, almost as if she was seeing a movie from her point of view. Elias, the wolves, the same man from the dog park. She even shot a man...or was it a wolf? Either way, she might’ve killed someone!

“How did you end up in that part of the city anyways?” Annie prodded.

Direct as always. Mikasa silenced her inner turmoils by drinking her tea. She really couldn’t tell Annie. Anybody for that matter! She attempted to steer the conversation in another direction.

“How did you get to where I was so fast?”

Annie spoke into her mug. “Not much traffic at two in the morning. Don’t change the subject!” She sighed at Mikasa’s eyebrow raise. “I was with Eren.”

Her nerves began to die down. Mikasa cursed, looking away from Annie. “I owe Armin dinner now.”

“What?”

Mikasa couldn’t help her half-smile. “When Eren first met you, he literally gushed to Armin and I about you. We made a bet: Armin said you guys would get together before your thirties, I said after. Loser buys dinner.”

Annie’s brow furrowed deeper. “Armin gambles?!”

“He isn’t a saint, you know? He can a manipulative bastard when he wants to be.” Mikasa cleared away their plates. “In fact, I think that’s how he got me to bet against him.”

Annie laughed. The first that Mikasa has ever heard her laugh. She liked the sound of it filling the kitchen. She washed the dishes and looked out the window over the sink. The barn doors were cracked open, an orange glow spilling out. She could see movement from the dogs inside.

Mikasa cursed again. “Ernie!”

Annie waved her off. “I told Eren before I left. And didn’t he tell you already?”

“Tell me what?” she asked, drying off her hands.

“Someone is adopting Ernie.”

Back in the city, Eren walked through Mikasa’s apartment, leash in hand and whistling for Ernie. When he entered the living room he didn’t see the dog sprawled on the couch like usual. Neither was he in the kitchen or in the bathroom. He shivered in the cold apartment.

He glanced around until he spotted the open window by the fire-escape. He stuffed the leash into his coat pocket to close it. His hands gripping the ledge as he peered over it. No one was around. He was about to close it when a glint caught his eye. It was precariously teetering between the grates of the fire-escape underneath the window. Eren plucked it with his fingers.

Icy metal.

A silver bullet.

Eren jumped at a whine from behind him. He gently lowered the window and locked it. Trading the bullet for the leash, he turned to see Ernie standing from the doorway of Mikasa’s bedroom. Eren felt relief for the dog that Mikasa didn’t see him coming from her room. He knelled before the dog to clip the leash on his collar.

Eren rubbed the dog’s ears. “Guess what, boy? We finally found your forever home!”

Ernie’s ears perked up. Eren moved about the apartment collecting all of his stuff into a box. Each time he picked something of the dog, Eren would caress it and gaze at it fondly. This was always a bittersweet moment for Eren. Saying goodbye to a friend even though he knows they will be happy. But he has grown attached to Ernie more so than the others.

Eren kept a hand on Ernie the whole way he drove to meet the new owner. The scenery outside changed from city buildings to suburbs. There were houses decked with lights and plastic Santa’s on their front yards. The house that Eren parked in front of wasn’t decorated.

He took his time getting Ernie and the box off from his Jeep. Instead of his usual long strides, he took half-steps up the driveway until he reached the door. He rung the doorbell, disappointment flooding in when the door was answered not soon after. Eren still pasted on a smile that hurt his face.

“G’morning! Hange Zoë, right?”

They smiled. “Yes, I am.” Their eyes lit up when they saw the dog. They stooped down to Ernie’s level and ran their fingers through black fur. “Just in time for Christmas, too!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted the playlist that helps me write Who Are You Calling A Bitch? in my bio. Feel free to copy and paste the link and listen to what inspires me.


	7. Treat

The early morning after Christmas and Hitch had to work. She had asked—begged—to take the day off for weeks prior. She had it off, too, until an officer had been placed on administrative leave. Honestly, if someone was going to steal from evidence they shouldn’t be the ones that have the only other copy of the key. 

Hitch rubbed her aching temples. Her hangover is really doing a number on her. She lifted her aviator sunglasses to look at her dash clock. The light from the sunrise pierced through her eyes and the pain in her frontal lobe throbbed. She groaned and squinted at the time. Not even seven in the morning.

She settled her sunglasses back on the bridge of her nose and glared at the snow outside of her car. Mother Nature delayed the snow until Christmas Eve and practically dumped it all over the city. Hitch swore that the little light reflecting off the snow crystals was getting through her sunglasses.

She reached for her thermos filled with coffee just as her radio crackled to life.

“Dispatch four-twenty-nine. Four-twenty-nine what’s your 10-20?”

Hitch begrudgingly set her thermos down. “Four-twenty-nine dispatch. 10-20 in financial district, Harrison ave.”

She must have been the nearest officer. Her task was given to her; respond to a complainant in Fritz district. Hitch rolled her eyes. The abandoned part of the city, just her luck. She confirmed and headed en route.

Hitch slowly went about the freshly cleared roads of Fritz district. The huddled figures on doorsteps and the occasional ragged addict watched her vehicle go by. The snow covered most of the ruined parts of the district. Hitch knew that underneath the snow still lied the ugly truth—hitting a pothole confirmed this. She doesn’t even know why the city doesn’t just tear down the whole area.

“Waste of tax money, for sure,” Hitch clucked.

She reached the location and radioed in to dispatch. A scrawny boy was in front of the building of an old auto shop, a flip phone halfway in his curls pressed against his ear. He was trying to hide that he was shivering. His lips were barely moving as he spoke into the phone, numb from the cold.

Hitch removed her sunglasses, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the bright light. Her headache started screeching. She got out of the car and strided to the boy. His shoulders hunched down when she stood in front of him. He had stopped talking into the phone and his bluing lips only trembled.

“I’m Officer Dreyse responding to your call,” she started, trying her best to minimize her squinting. “I’m going to need you to relax if we want to go any further, okay?”

The kid stared at her like a deer in headlights. For a second, Hitch thought that he had frozen over until he nodded his head in jerky movements.

Hitch offered a small grin. “Okay, can we start with your name? What is it?”

“B-Bruno,” he stammered. He lowered the phone to rest it against his collarbone. His other hand tugged on his thin sweater.

“What’s the problem, Bruno? I’ve been informed that you haven’t given a clear answer.”

Bruno’s eyes filled with horror and his tan skin lost its color. His lips moved but no words came out. He only pointed to the auto shop behind him with a raw and shaking finger.

“In there?”

A nod.

Hitch placed a hand on her forehead, soothing her headache. She went back to her car and picked up her radio, calling for backup and that she will check the place out. She grabbed her thermos and motioned for Bruno to come closer. He shuffled to her and Hitch handed him her thermos. He looked confused but it was replaced with horror again when she opened the door to the back of her car.

“I’m not arresting you,” she assured. “You’re obviously cold.” She guided him by his elbow to sit in the car. “I want you to wait here and warm up, alright? I called for backup so don’t be afraid when another cop shows up. Don’t go anywhere, understand?”

“Y-yeah.”

Hitch went back to the auto shop. The front of the place had boarded windows and a barred door. The bay door was also down and, surely, locked down. The windows above the bay were the only ones unboarded.

She turned back to see Bruno sipping from her thermos, huddled in the car and staring at the snow. Feeling that he wasn’t going anywhere, Hitch walked down to the right of the building.

A narrow alley covered in snow reaching her ankles. The concrete walls of the building were graffitied with gang emblems, words, and genitalia. The usual in this district. She rounded the corner to the back of the building. A snow-covered dumpster was pushed against the building. A bay door down and covered in more graffiti. There were several busted cars all lined side-by-side covering the rest of the back.  

Hitch looked around the cars but she only found paw prints from a large dog. She turned to look at the dumpster. The lid was heavy from the snow and she hefted it up. Empty. She dropped it down and the dull echo managed to sting her head. She gritted her teeth and placed a hand against her forehead as she faced up. She frowned when she saw an open window above, perfectly aligned with the dumpster. The window had no glass or paneling, and it was still hard to reach even with the dumpster serving as a booster. A good jump, though, and almost anybody can get inside.

She rounded the back to another narrow alley but a little bigger than the one on the right of the building. A metal door on the side of the building was opened. At the end of the alley was a rotting wooden fence with a couple of unhinged panels. Yellow snow marked a corner of it. Hitch’s face scrunched in disgust. Who knows what else could have happened in this alley?

As she walked down to the door she saw footprints embedded in the snow. They came in from fence to the door and back out. There were a couple of hand-prints and signs of scampering. Hitch had the suspicion that Bruno left the prints behind. Whatever he saw had sent him out scrambling.

The sound of tires crunching on snow sounded from over the fence and the radio on Hitch’s shoulder came to life. Her backup. She gave a brief rundown about Bruno and what she was going to do. Her hand went to her gun holster and she went inside.

The windows from above the bay door provided enough light for Hitch to see inside. The first thing she saw was several dried pools and trails of blood heading father back into shop. Hitch gasped when she saw footsteps and large paw prints of dried blood scattered about. Traces of fur and a few bullet shells swept the area. At this point she had drawn her gun and held it in both hands, low and in front of her.

She started to follow the trails to the back of the building. The sound of rusted hinges from the door made her stiffen and spin around, aiming. She scowled when it was one of the other officers.

“Why aren’t you outside with Bruno?” Hitch asked, lowering her gun.

He didn’t answer. He could only stare at the bloody mess in front of him.

“Answer me, Marlowe!”

Marlowe snapped out of it and focused on Hitch. He didn’t return her scowl trying to stay passive. “Boris is out front along with a few others. You’re stupid for deciding to come inside the shop alone.”

Hitch turned her back to him. “Please, I can take care of myself.”

A beat.

“What happened here?”

Hitch shook her head. “I have no idea.”

She continued to follow the tails and bloody footsteps as Marlowe radioed about the inside of the building. Hitch came to a stop when the trails ended up disappearing underneath a large black tarp. A hand was poking out from beneath. The footprints returned and different patterns show that the person made a few trips. Her nostrils twitched at a faint smell. She couldn’t really settle on what it was, but she had an idea. She looked above the surrounding area. The window was away but not too far as there was a light dusting of snow on the tarp.

Hitch dug into the pockets of her coat. She swore and called back to Marlowe. “Got any salve, or VapoRub?”

He dug his free hand into his pockets while striding towards Hitch. He pulled out a little tin can and tossed it her way. She caught it, opened it, and smudged the ointment above her upper lip. She tossed it back and Marlowe did the same.

Hitch holstered her gun and knelled in front of the tarp, carefully trying not to touch the hand. Marlowe stood behind her. She plucked the edges of the tarp and slowly peeled it away. Behind her Marlowe gagged and backtracked away from the tarp. He immediately began to talk into the radio citing a 10-55—coroner’s case.

Hitch’s mouth unhinged and she couldn’t stop staring at the mess in front of her. It shouldn’t even be possible.

* * *

 

Mikasa was curled on the sofa, a mug of thick hot chocolate in her hands, and gazed out the window. It had snowed all day on Christmas Eve; the day after Eren and Mikasa arrived at the Jeager’s home. Any later and they would have been stuck in the sudden blizzard.

The morning after Christmas and there was a feeling of emptiness. The decorated pine tree was stuffed in the corner of the living room, and it will remain there until after Three Kings Day. The chimney next to it contained charred pieces of wood and soot. The front yard, the streets, and cars parked on the curb were all buried beneath a thick blanket of snow. Across the street, the neighbour was clearing the sidewalk as her child played in waist-deep snow.

Mikasa heard the thumping of footsteps until the couch dipped beside her. Out of the corner of eye she could see Eren lacing up his father’s snow boots. He was muttering under his breath about unfairness. Carla had given obvious hints that she would like the driveway shoveled—she had brought in snow and let it melt on the carpet, a pleasant surprise to Mikasa wearing socks. After drawing straws between Grisha, Eren, and Mikasa, Eren was the unlucky winner.

“We could’ve done “Nose Goes” instead of drawing toothpicks,” Mikasa said before sipping her chocolate.

Eren finished lacing the first boot. He couldn’t feel his foot at all. His father is a couple of sizes bigger so he had to fill in the remaining space by tripling wool socks. “You two somehow have faster reflexes than I do,” he muttered. He began to fumble with the laces on the second boot.

“I intended for you to get the shorter toothpick,” Mikasa admitted guiltily.

“What?!” Eren paused with lacing and whipped his head towards Mikasa in disbelief. “Why?”

Mikasa shrugged. “Grisha is really good at persuading.”

Both Eren and Mikasa knew that “persuade” is Grisha code for bribe.

Eren scowled, returning to lace his boot. “Just for that you should join me in shoveling snow.”

“Oh, but it is a man’s job to do heavy work,” Mikasa teased.

“Fuck your gender norms!”

Mikasa laughed. “I’ll join you once I’m done with my chocolate.”

Eren finished with lacing the boot. He stood up and stamped his feet. Nothing. His feet are cinder blocks now. He looked down at Mikasa, distracted by the white emptiness outside. His eyes shifted from her to the mug in her hands. Making sure she really wasn’t paying attention, he snatched the mug out of her hands and chugged the remaining contents.

“Hey!”

Eren sighed in delight. “Now you can join me.” He handed her back the empty mug which she received with a scowl.

“Asshole.”

“You two make a lot of noise.”

Mikasa leaned to look around Eren to see Carla coming into the living room. She had boots on and a coat, clashing with her pajamas underneath. She picked up the afghan Mikasa had gifted her from the love seat and wrapped it around herself.

She raised her eyebrow at Eren. “What are you still doing here? Go shovel the driveway.”

Eren grumbled as he zipped on a thick coat and walked out back to the shed. Carla followed him to make sure he would do as told. Growing up, he had a way to dodge his chores if he wasn’t being monitored.

Mikasa walked to the kitchen to wash her mug. Footsteps descending the stairs came from behind her and she recognized who they belonged to. She glanced over her shoulder to see Grisha. He was out of his pajamas—unlike Carla and Mikasa. He was always spick and span.

He patted her head in greeting. “Leftovers from dinner or waffles?”

“Waffles.” Mikasa pointed to the blue enamel pot on the stove. “I also made hot chocolate. Want some?”

“Please,” Grisha said. He pulled out the waffle maker from a cupboard and plugged it in.

A comfortable silence ensued between the two despite the clatter of utensils. The kitchen grew warm as they made breakfast. It was moments like these that Mikasa enjoyed. Moments that help her forget about whatever distress in her life. 

Mikasa was setting the table when Carla came back, nose red from the cold and shaking her head.

“I swear, who takes almost ten minutes to get a shovel.”

Mikasa smirked. “I can think of someone.”

Carla grinned and turned on the television from the dining room. The morning news was starting and she raised to volume to hear it as she helped Mikasa.

“I know I asked you before,” Carla started, setting out the honey, “but is there really nothing new happening with you guys? I’m not around all the time like before.”

Mikasa bit her tongue. Oh a lot has happened in her life. Wolf-men, her apartment being broken into, a man almost abducting her, a crazed shooter. Not to mention caring for a dog. Well used to.

When Annie told her that Eren had found someone to adopt Ernie, she didn’t know how to react. She had been with the dog for nearly a month that she somehow got used to him. She begrudgingly admits, although never to anybody outside of her thoughts, that she grew to tolerate the dog more than most. And that means a lot from Mikasa. However, she couldn’t hold back the Grinch-like smile that had crawled onto her face. Annie had been creeped out—she personally had ever seen Mikasa smile like that before!

Although, she felt sorry for Eren. He always grows attached to whatever dog he is fostering but he was more upset at Ernie being gone. It was obvious he really loved the Australian mutt. Annie had later texted Mikasa that Eren had been staring into the void more often. This led to Mikasa suggesting to go home to the Jeager’s for Christmas. He was skeptical at first but warmed up again when he saw his mother.

“Nothing much aside from the break-in that night,” Mikasa responded.

“The city is a dangerous place,” Carla tutted.

“You guys used to live in the city.” 

“It was safer when we were younger!” came Grisha’s voice from the kitchen.

Mikasa was about to retort when the drone of the news caught her attention. She went past the entryway to see the television better. The words displayed across the screen jumped out at her.

FOUR DEAD BODIES FOUND IN FRITZ DISTRICT

The news anchors switched to an on-the-field reporter. Mikasa couldn’t remember what the auto shop Elias took her to looked like. Everything was a blur. She does know that the abandoned part of the city is called Fritz district on the maps. She also knows that there were four casualties that night, and she may have been responsible for one.

Carla came up beside her. “I told you it’s dangerous,” she said as she gestured to the screen.

Mikasa stared at the screen. The auto shop was surrounded by yellow tape and police. The bay door in front of the shop had been opened, leading to darkness.  There were people around it hoping to get a glance at the dead bodies, a mix of different classes. Fritz District may be a hotspot for crime but surprisingly not a lot of dead bodies came out of there.

Mikasa’s eyes widened when the camera panned to the person emerging from the bay entrance. A giant shadowy figure until his blond hair emerged in the light. Erwin Smith. Mikasa couldn’t help but think how the darkness behind him framed him to appear menacing.

“My, isn’t he handsome,” Carla sighed.

Mikasa nodded absently, not really listening to her. He didn’t even bother answering questions from other reporters or the people from outside the tape. He only talked to a short-haired girl that looked familiar. They parted ways and he pulled out a cell phone, tapping away.

Mikasa pulled away from the screen as it cut back to the news anchors moving on to a different story. She mumbled to Carla about helping Eren out in the driveway.

It hadn’t taken her long to suit up to head outside. She simply layered everything on top of her pajamas. After borrowing Carla’s snow boots and picking up an old spare shovel from the shed, she met Eren up in front. He was halfway done. He could’ve been finished by then if he hadn’t stopped to check his phone. He stuffed it into his pocket when he saw Mikasa emerge.

“About time!” Eren cried. “Don’t conform to gender norms. Stay woke for the new year, Mikasa.”

Normally, Mikasa would mock his use of new age lingo. She didn't acknowledge his jest. She marched to where he had left off and began to clear off the snow. Right now, she felt like she needed hard labor. She wonders if Grisha might have some firewood that he would like chopped up. Mikasa wouldn’t use the chainsaw. Only the ax. Nothing but mindless work.

A hand landed on her shoulder. She followed the hand to the owner’s face. Eren’s green eyes were filled with evident worry. “Something wrong?”

Mikasa shrugged off his hand. She turned back to shoveling. Her eyes burned with the threat of tears and her nose heated up. Her sniffling could pass for the cold. She could tell Eren, right now. How she feels that her sense of reality is deteriorating. How she feels scared, no matter the MMA training she has taken. How the balm on her wrist has been disfigured. How she could have possibly killed someone. Or someone’s dog—she doesn’t know!

She is mostly scared for how he would react. Eren is accepting of a lot of things. Except for people interested in the supernatural. Mikasa can still recall when she went through her vampires vs. werewolves phase as a teen, and Eren was there making fun of her for loving it.

_ “How can you find an anemic bottle of Windex-looking bloodsucker hot?” _

_ “What’s the deal with the wolf-man not wearing a shirt all the time?” _

_ “Shouldn’t that be considered bestiality/necrophilia?” _

_ “It’s a fantasy!” _

Is it really a fantasy anymore? What Mikasa has seen thus far looked too real. Would he believe her, or would he laugh at her?

Instead, Mikasa shook her head. “Mom was just grilling me about our love lives again.”

It took a moment until she heard Eren groan dramatically behind her. A sense of relief washed through her. It still didn’t stop her nagging thoughts at the back of her head.

“Doesn’t she know that we are independent people that don’t need no man, or wo _ man _ .”

“You’re so dependent on Annie,” Mikasa chuckled, stressing the “so.”

Hands clamped around her shoulders and spun her around. She could have slipped and fallen if Eren hadn’t kept his hands on her shoulders. His eyes bore into hers—a concoction of bewilderment and confusion.

“How did you know?”

“What do you mean?” she toyed.

She batted his hands off her again to resume in clearing the driveway. She heard the crunching of snow as he retreated away from her. Very unlike Eren. She should have figured sooner when a snowball had been thrown at the back of her head. Very like Eren.

Mikasa shivered. She dropped the shovel to mold a snowball, spinning around and nailing Eren’s chest. They both narrowed their eyes at each other. The silent agreement that they had war upon them.

The driveway never got cleared, much to Carla’s chagrin.

* * *

 

They hopped around to avoid their fate. Some stood still and let themselves be snatched up, already accepting their inevitable end. The bright light illuminated their demise at the jaws of the cold-blooded killers. Armin watched as it all happened. He then stretched out his hand and gently tapped on the glass, a smile gracing his lips.

“Enjoy dinner, Sartre!” He retracted his hand to pick up his sweater on the back of a chair beside the terrarium. “Make sure to leave some for Rousseau.”

The bearded dragon attacking the crickets, Sartre, didn’t pay mind to the giant on the other side of the glass. The other one, Rousseau, didn’t eat but kept still on a log absorbing the warmth from the light above. As Armin’s phone buzzed, he gave the glass a final tap before leaving the warmth of his apartment.

The elevator ride down, Armin kept practicing in front of the mirror to keep a straight face. He failed every time; a smug smile would quiver through his fighting face muscles. He won the bet. Victory always tasted savory for him. Not sweet, but savory, like a medium-rare steak that he won’t be paying for!

Once reaching the lobby, he braced himself for the cold and rushed to the car waiting for him. He whipped the door open and hopped in. The whooshing vents immediately warmed his face before the cold could take place.

“How was Christmas?” he asked in greeting.

“Two words: snowball war,” Mikasa said, signaling back onto the road.

A silence filled the car. Armin tried to sit still in his seat. He couldn’t help an excited wiggle now and then. His lips were mashed together. Mikasa could feel his lively aura radiating from beside her. It wasn’t until a red light she gave him the satisfaction.

“Go ahead,” she sighed dramatically, “Tell me—”

“I told you so!” Armin erupted.

Armin continued bragging about winning the bet. Despite a twinge of annoyance, Mikasa felt she was enjoying herself. He bragged for most of the car ride. When they were nearing their destination he had calmed down, letting the GPS guide Mikasa.

He gazed out of his window at the slush and snow covered streets. He noticed how the buildings morphed from tall concrete to paling brick. He didn’t question the change of scenery until the GPS declared they have arrived at their destination. Mikasa maneuvered herself in between two cars and removed her keys.

Armin stared at the building he assumed that Mikasa brought them to. It was the only building lit up. Also the blinking “restaurant” lettering was a dead giveaway. It was built differently from the rest; weathered sandstone and marble instead of eroding brick. The aluminum canopies appeared to be newer than the rest of the place. A giant lettering sitting barely above the accumulated snow on the canopy lit the snow with yellow light.

“ _ Luna Lapis _ ,” read Armin with almost clear pronunciation. The Spanish classes he had taken helped.

“Come, let’s go in.”

Mikasa stepped out, her spine rigid as she stared at the building. She still couldn’t shake off the events prior that brought her to this establishment. Mikasa looked behind her, her eyes scanning the shadows of the area before crunching her way to Armin’s side. He had his arms crossed over his chest, teeth chattering from the cold, while he surveyed the surrounding area as well. Mikasa could see the bells going off just by looking into his eyes.

They walked up the rusting-metal frame steps. Laughter and multiple conversations escaped into the cold night when they opened the door. The same soft violet sign hung on the wall when Mikasa first came in.

It didn’t take long for a host to come and usher them to their table. They were handed menus but Mikasa wasn’t paying any mind to it. Instead of low lighting when she came in, the lanterns were on a higher setting. The stools at the bar were down and people occupied them, watching the basketball game on the T.V. above the bar. Commotion came from the kitchen, waiters going in and out of it. There were several tables with customers. A large group of hipsters took up the center of the place, their conversations being the loudest. A trio of college students were closer to the picture window at the front. The other couple of tables belonged to couples.

Armin and Mikasa were seated across from the hipster group and a couple of tables away from two girls. They were also a couple of tables away from the burgundy curtain. Mikasa eyed the curtain behind Armin. The whole place was buzzing and alive. A huge contrast from when Mikasa stumbled in.

Their waiter returned and Armin ordered confidently—medium-rare steak. He could see Mikasa stumbling through the menu unprepared. Their waiter stood by patiently but his eyes told a different story. Armin eyed a red-haired woman behind Mikasa tending other tables. She was staring a hole into the back of Mikasa’s head. Armin watched curiously when she began to make her way to their table. When she was close enough, her eyes widened and her hand landed on Mikasa’s shoulder causing her to tense.

“I recommend the penne with pesto, if ya don’t mind carbs,” she drawled in an urban accent.

Mikasa whipped her head to look at her. Her eyes brightened when she saw the woman. They greeted each other and Mikasa nodded to Armin.

“This is my best friend, Armin.”

The woman shooed the waiter to tend the other tables and she took his place. She stretched a hand out and Armin took it. He was surprised by her grip.

“Magnolia. Isabel Magnolia.”

“Armin.”

Isabel still held his hand as she bent to be at his seated level. “I know we just met, but you are beautiful.”

Armin’s lips flapped and he could feel an intense heat in his cheeks. “Thank you,” he mumbled, and retracted his hand awkwardly.

Isabel laughed at his shyness and straightened, her attention back on Mikasa. “I thought you wouldn’t come back.”

Mikasa’s fingers thrummed on her menu. “I remember you saying I was welcome back whenever.”

“I did, didn’t I?” she said, her vibrant eyes looking at the ceiling.

“Besides,” Mikasa continued, “I’m treating my friend here, so I thought why not?”

Isabel’s face lit up. “Then may I suggest an upgrade?”

Armin frowned. “Upgrade?”

Isabel practically knelled to better face the two. She motioned with her fingers to reel them in closer to her. Mikasa hesitantly leaned in, wondering how much this upgrade will hurt her wallet.

“A V.I.P. room that those hipsters over there would be tripping over for,” she whispered, discreetly pointing to the burgundy curtain behind Armin.

Armin left the huddle to look behind him. He saw the curtain when he came in but hadn’t thought much of it. He figured that behind it was just a wall and that it was more for decoration. The thought of a room down there, though…

He turned back to Mikasa and Isabel. They were both waiting on him.

He cleared his throat. “Well, you’re the one treating tonight, so—”

“No extra charge,” cut in Isabel, standing up.

It was now Armin and Isabel’s turn to wait on Mikasa. She looked between them—Armin’s curious twinkle, Isabel’s mischievous grin —and the curtain. In all honesty, she is kind of curious.

“Fine,” Mikasa exhaled.

They were lead away from their table by Isabel. She parted the curtain on one side and ushered them in. From over his shoulder, Armin could see the hipsters staring at them until Isabel stepped in and let the curtain fall back into place.

It was dark in the stairway. Mikasa could barely see Armin’s outline in the dark, his blond hair worked like a beacon. The only light in the stairway came from underneath the curtain—the restaurant bustling behind it—and a dimly-lit entrance at the bottom of the stairs. Isabel squeezed between Armin and Mikasa, and trudged down the steps. Mikasa could feel Armin give her a look in the dark before following after the sound of Isabel’s footsteps. She looked back briefly behind her at the curtain, thinking that maybe she shouldn’t have agreed to this “upgrade.”

The closer they got to the bottom of the stairs, the louder conversations behind them became background noise and progressively being replaced with quieter voices. Once they passed the entrance it was like stepping in a whole other world.

The dim light came from the several lantern chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Enough light for people not to bump into anything. There was a wraparound bar in the middle of the wall to the left of the entrance.  _ Luna Lapis _ was pinned on the wall above the bar, covering the nearest patrons in blue. A door was on the far right from the entrance, several booths lining the wall. A handful of tables were scattered in the center of the room, and the far wall had three alcoves.

Isabel weaved them to one of the empty alcoves. The few people seated greeted Isabel and she would nod her head to acknowledge them. Mikasa and Armin, on the other hand, felt unnerved by the looks they were getting. They looked at them almost as if they are trespassing on forbidden territory.

Armin was thankful once they sat down. Isabel took their orders herself, and with a reassuring smile, left through the door near the way they came from. When she opened the door, hollow sounds from the kitchen came in before being completely shut off. The lower level must be soundproof; one could hear nothing from the upper level. The only noise came from gentle chatter, utensils on plates, and jazz music in the background.

“Did you know about this?” Armin asked, looking away from the new environment to Mikasa.

Mikasa was scratching her wrist through her sweater. “Not at all.”

They were briefly interrupted by the bartender setting down their drinks. Mikasa wrinkled her nose once he had his back to them. She could smell the strong scent of dog from him. Armin sniffled.

“Why are my allergies trying to act up?” Armin complained, cupping his hands around his mouth and nose.

Mikasa pulled her drink towards her. “For the record, I’m clean.”

“How does it feel being dog free?” came his muffled voice.

“Liberating. You can now come over and I can guarantee that you will not die in my apartment.”

Armin gave her a thumbs up and Mikasa giggled. They fell into idle chatter until Isabel came back herself with their orders. Armin’s mouth was watering when he saw the sizzling meat. Mikasa pushed back a gag by forking some pasta into her mouth. She still can’t shake off the idea of sizzling noises coming from wolf-men bodies.

“This is amazing!” Armin praised between bites.

“Probably because you’re not paying,” Mikasa said into her drink.

Conversation between them came to a lull. Armin was enjoying his prize to the fullest. By the way he savored his dish, you would think it was his last meal. Mikasa could feel herself start to unwind. Her shoulders had been aching and a migraine had been trying to build up at the back of her head. At first it felt wrong to be here, but Mikasa supposes it’s one of those places that you just have to get used to.

Isabel was right. Those hipsters upstairs would be climbing over each other to get a table down here.

When the bartender came back to refill their drinks, Mikasa asked him where the bathrooms were. The one misfortune about being downstairs is that if you gotta go, you have to go back the same way you came from. Mikasa patted her wallet in her sweater pocket. Might as well pay the bill once she’s up there.

“Will you be alright by yourself?” she asked Armin.

“Yeah,” he sniffed, hiding his nose behind his napkin.

Mikasa pushed away from the table and exited the private space of the alcove. She had been unwinding before; maybe it was because she wasn’t being stared at like now. Not really stared at but she could feel the side-eyed glances and over the shoulder glimpses as she walked to the staircase. She looked back at Armin from the entryway, his concentration on his phone.

Mikasa carefully made her way up the stairs. In spite of the darkness, Mikasa could see an outline of the steps. She held her hand out to the side to use as a guidance. When she was close to the top, the curtain opened abruptly and the light blinded her. She held her free hand in front of her face to the block the light. Just as it had suddenly opened, the curtains were drawn. Mikasa couldn’t see the outline of the steps now. Smudges of shadow covered her vision.

She felt the vibrations of someone coming down, so she pressed herself closer to the wall. She rubbed her eyes to get rid of the smudges and waited for the person to pass by her. Mikasa felt the person brushing her side.

“Excuse me,” said a deep voice.

Mikasa mumbled an apology and continued up. She slowly peeled back the curtain so as not to be blinded like before. After her vision adjusted to the light, and taking care of business, Mikasa found Isabel behind the register.

Isabel braced her hands on the counter. “How’s the V.I.P. room treating ya?”

Mikasa blinked her eyes, now adjusted to the light. “It took me a moment to get used to it. I don’t really treat myself with luxuries often.”

“Newbies are always like that. They keep coming back, though,” Isabel said. Her eyebrows twisted a little. “You didn’t crash into anybody on the way up here, did ya?”

Mikasa was pulling out her wallet. “I was blinded, but no. I stood off to the side.”

“Good.” Isabel laid a hand on top of Mikasa hand pulling out her card. “It’s already been taken care of.”

Mikasa was confused. “Isabel, you didn’t have to.”

“What? No! I didn’t do it,” Isabel said, waving her hands in front of her . “I’m trying to run a respectable business here. I even charge my brothers and other close friends.”

More confusion. “Then who?”

“I can’t tell you. They requested it to be anonymous,” she said professionally.

“Okay...Well,” Mikasa slid her card back into place and instead pulled out a generous tip in cash. She slid it towards Isabel. “For tonight’s waitress. Tell her she provided exceptional service tonight. And for the table upgrade.”

Isabel smiled and slipped the tip into her pocket. “I’ll let her know. Though that upgrade was just an exception this time.”

Going back down was easier than the first time. She passed one of the couples that were coming up the staircase. The man continued up but the woman stood off to the side and let Mikasa pass by. She had thanked her, and her nose twitched at the woman’s scent. Dog. Mikasa had looked back up at the couple, the light from when they opened the curtain showcased them as shadows. The woman look back at her before leaving.

A shudder ran down her spine. Mikasa was beginning to feel inexplicably uneasy.

She made her way back to the alcove, slowing down when she Armin was in an active conversation with someone. A man. He has his back to her, and she noticed his lean figure. The closer she got, she could see his broad-shoulders and short height. The light from the lantern showed a head full of black hair.

Armin saw her and waved her over. She picked up her pace again but stopped when the man turned around. She admits she never got a good look of the man’s face before. She only had a vague recollection about how he looked. Strong jaw, fierce eyes, tall nose.

This man is the same man from the dog park. The same man from the auto shop.

“Mikasa, this is Levi,” she heard Armin say. “We were talking about—”

“I’ll leave you guys alone,” he interrupted, turning back to Armin. “Be careful in this part of the city. Four dead bodies have been found not too far from here.”

Mikasa dry-swallowed and averted her eyes when he looked at her while saying that. It then registered to her that he had brushed past her in the stairs.

Armin lifted his hand in a wave. “Well, it was nice meeting you.”

The man—Levi—gave a curt nod and walked past Mikasa, careful not to touch her. Her spine tingled from his low voice, “Enjoy your meal, it’s my treat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not finish writing the other chapters after the eight one. Bear with me, my job takes up most of my time.


	8. Speak

Erwin followed behind the line of coroner vans. The same vehicles that held the bodies from two days ago. Nobody was happy that the autopsies were taking this long. And Detective Smith had a small part in delaying the autopsies.

He wasn’t really appointed for the case of the bodies. He wasn’t even supposed to be working that day. Erwin had gone to the station in the early morning to pick up files from the security stationed near Mikasa Ackerman’s residence when he heard an officer’s voice through dispatch. He stopped in the hallway near the door and listened in as the officer called a coroner’s case in Fritz District. Four dead found. It hadn’t stopped there. The man’s voice quivered through the already shaky radio waves to report that one of the bodies was off.

Erwin took off after hearing the description. He had almost no trouble getting there—aside from the leftover ice on the streets and snow-covered potholes. He arrived to see several police cars parked around an abandoned auto shop. Yellow police tape had been wrapped around the premises. A couple of officers were struggling to push up the bay door at the front, the age and rust from the door screeching throughout the quiet of the street.

Erwin got off his vehicle and went over to the scene. His breath came out in visible clouds as he looked up and down the street. The screeching from the door’s had prompted heads to pop out of still-habitable buildings and corners. The officer’s finally succeeded in pushing up the door when Erwin was approached by an officer.

“Sir, step away from the area,” one of them said. “There’s nothing to see.”

All warnings were halted when he pulled out his detective badge. “I want to see everything. What happened?”

Erwin looked around and saw a police car opened. An officer was leaning beside it watching over a boy huddled inside, hands gripping a thermos. The boy stared at the snow with hollow eyes.

“Officer Dreyse responded his call,” said the officer by the boy. “My partner, Freudenberg, and I arrived later as backup. The boy was here when we came. I stayed behind to look after him while Freudenberg went in after Dreyse.”

“And your name?” Erwin asked.

“Feulner.” He pointed to the officer that was warning him earlier. “That’s Freudenberg.”

People were starting to encircle the area. “And where is Dreyse?”

“Still inside,” Freudenberg responded. “I can take y—”

Erwin didn’t wait and went towards the building, ducking beneath the tape. The first thing he saw was the dried spots of blood, visible even from a distance of the bay door. He gritted his teeth at the thought of the crime scene visible to the public. The further he walked in he could see more blood, footprints made out of it were scattered about. A glint caught his eye and he recognized it as a bullet shell. A silver bullet shell. Erwin clenched his jaw.

“Can I help you?” a woman asked, approaching from the back of the building. She was dressed in a police uniform. He caught her name from the tag pinned on her jacket.

Erwin pulled out his own badge. “A rundown would be nice, Officer Dreyse.”

She briefed him, from finding the boy, Bruno, to first walking in on the scene. Dreyse motioned to someone behind him, and Freudenberg marched in, handing him a small tin can of VapoRub.

“I don’t think the bodies should be too decomposed in this weather,” Erwin said.

“You’ll still need it. Trust me,” Freudenberg advised, turning green around the gills.

Erwin smudged the ointment on his upper lip and handed back the tin. The menthol ointment tingled his nostrils, masking whatever scent in the air.  He followed Dreyse further back into the building. From the light coming in from the entrance, Erwin could see the shining stray tufts of fur sweeping gently across the floor. The dried pools of blood turned into trails and more footprints leading to a large tarp. He could see a pair of feet sticking from underneath the tarp. Behind him, Erwin could hear the growing crowd and officers pushing people back. It won’t be long for someone to arrive and rightfully takeover.

He saw Dreyse inhale deeply before pulling the tarp back. Erwin watched and his jaw clenched again when he saw the body matching the description he heard over the radio.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” a gruff voice said.

Erwin spun on his heel to see the rightful detective with his CSI team filing in behind him.

“It’s in my belief that I can be here,” Erwin defended. “The scene is similar to the one that happened in the dog park not too long ago.”

“You weren’t called on, Smith,” he said. “I was. I want you out of here, my team and I have work to do.”

“Nile, if you can—”

“You,” he motioned to Dreyse. “Lead him out, and make sure he stays out.”

Dreyse hesitated. She then averted her eyes from Erwin and grabbed his elbow. “Please come with me.”

Erwin didn’t turn to look back at Nile as he was escorted out. He had to work fast if he wanted this case to be his. He’ll have to make several calls.

“Sorry, about this,” Dreyse apologized, releasing his elbow. “I’m just following orders.”

“You have nothing to apologize about,” Erwin assured.

They came to the entrance and could see people standing outside of the tape, trying to look inside. More officers have arrived and were encircling the area. A couple of reporters were asking them questions falling on deaf ears.

Dreyse looked up at him. “You know, I feel like you would do a much better job than Dok.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I won’t let you down.”

They parted ways and Erwin flipped out his phone, immediately typing out a message. A proposition, a re-investigation, and tons of paperwork later, Erwin had the case.

The vans slowed down and turned into a narrow, paved road leading to a two-story farmhouse. They parked in a line in at the front of the farmhouse. It obscured the large sign that betrayed the innocent looking house.

OLIVIER MORGUE & CREMATORIUM

Erwin got out of his car and walked to one of the vans to help the driver unload. A couple of police cars drove in and the officers got out to help. They would need all the help they could get. It is four bodies. The gurneys are already heavy and then with the added weight, it could be difficult.

Erwin led the gurney to the other side of the van and up the ramp of the house. There was no need to knock on the door. The coroner stood halfway through the open doorway, mug in hand.

“These must be special if you brought them to me,” he said, leading the line of gurneys and officers inside.

“It’s good to see you too, Eld,” Erwin bid.

The inside of the farmhouse had been remodeled and looked like any other; cozy, simple, and neutral. There was nothing homely about the bodies rolling in, or what was in the basement. They were lead to a wide hallway, stopping in front of steel doors at the end of it. Eld pressed the button by the doors and they opened.

He let Erwin go in first. “I’ll meet everybody down there. You know where to go.”

Erwin nodded and pushed the down button.

The doors opened into the basement. Concrete walls, fluorescent lights, and thin carpet. Erwin motioned to the officer to head left and walk down a short hallway to the double doors. They pushed in and waited for the others.

There were two metal tables spaced apart. The west wall was taken up by the lockers. The south wall was covered with a couple of refrigerators, a utility sink, opened boxes of shoe covers and latex gloves, and tacked on the tile wall were instruments meant to cut and saw bone. There were several rolling carts tucked into the corner with the video cameras on tripods standing in front of them. Aprons and gowns hanged on pegs, a white board with an outline of a human body painted on was on the wall across from the metal tables.

The other gurneys rolled in a few minutes later. Eld came in with his team. The large room felt small with so many people milling in and out. The team worked in storing the covered bodies in empty lockers and left one on one of the metal tables. Officers were rolling out gurneys and leaving at Erwin’s permission.

“I wasn’t expecting this place to be this huge,” one of the officers said passing by Eld.

A tight smile formed on his lips. “I remodeled the whole house in order to continue my practice.” His smile slipped when he turned to Erwin. “So what makes these bodies special?”

“One and a half of them are special,” Erwin responded.

Eld raised his eyebrow. “One and a half?”

A zipper was was pulled, loud in the now mostly empty room, and then a sharp gasp. “Holy shit!”

Erwin pivoted to see the woman, Petra, all dressed up and ready to perform the autopsy. Her mouth in the shape of an “O,” and her eyes frozen at the body she had revealed. The upper half of the body was that of a wolf. The lower half was human. The torso was an inhumane blend of the different vertebrates; ribs pushed out and stomach pushed in. A bullet wound pierced the wolf ribs; dark —almost black—blood coagulated around it and matted the fur.

“That half,” Erwin said, nonchalant.

Eld and Erwin surrounded the body with the rest. The wolf head was torqued to the side, semi-stiff from the cold. The thick fur around the neck area covered the swelling of the neck. It’s jaw was opened, its tongue was splotched with dark spots and the teeth in blood. The eyes were still open and were slightly cloudy; the copper color still visible. The human skin had a light blue-green undertone.

“There seems to be little to no bloating,” observed one the examiners, a man named Oluo.

“Shifter bodies are different from human bodies,” Gunther reasoned, another of the examiners. “The below freezing nights also played a huge part in slowing down decomposition.”

Erwin pulled out a thick file from the inside of his coat. He handed it to Eld who opened it and scanned its contents.

“Estimated death, about a week ago,” Eld read out loud, incredulous. “We’ll be working against time here!”

“I know it’s not ideal but the lieutenant and I would like the results as soon as possible,” Erwin said.

“Obviously a gunshot wound near the lungs and a twisted neck,” Petra huffed. The fur swallowed almost her whole gloved-hand as she prodded the neck.

“Petra,” Eld reprimanded, his eyes not looking away from the file.

Erwin addressed the group. “Look, you will need to create two different reports. The public has been hounding us, but we can’t exactly show them,” he waved at the body on the table, “this. We’ll be breaking many rules.”

Eld sighed. “The usual, then. One for the lieutenant and yourself, one for the public. We know the drill.”

A thought came across Erwin’s mind. “There are two bodies that are human. Make sure to check—”

“Check their blood on a moonstone to see if they are also Shifters,” cut in Petra, moving one of the rolling carts to the table. “We’ll use Gunther’s or Eld’s stone.”

After Erwin left, they expertly went about setting the room for the autopsy. Eld switched on the camera, positioned to capture the whole body, and snapped on a pair of latex gloves.

He spiked the camera and said, “We’ll be commencing the autopsy of John Doe number one…”

* * *

 

Mikasa rubbed her disfigured mark with her thumb, her eyes solemn. The scar was smooth instead of rough like the rest on her arms, yet it was still raised. Her mind kept coming back to the man from the dog park, from before Christmas, from when he paid the bill at  _ Luna Lapis _ .

Levi. An energetic sounding name for a gun-wielding...killer? Wolf-man hunter? Mikasa has no clue what he does. She can remember Elias mentioning a bounty of some sort. A bounty hunter? It didn’t matter. She now had a name for him. Mikasa is sure it is him. She had heard his voice before. She could recognize it from anywhere. It had been some impressionable nights when she heard it.

After leaving  _ Luna Lapis _ , Armin had asked her if they knew each other. It would have been easy to spill everything to Armin there: that he was at the dog park, and that he kind of helped her the night Elias took her to the auto shop. She didn’t. A small voice told her to deny it; that it would be easier not to involve people. When she had asked Armin what they had been talking about, he only gave a vague answer. Everything and nothing, he had said.

One thing that Mikasa figured is that she could possibly talk to Levi. She could talk to him about...whatever it is that has been going on. Mikasa could schedule an appointment with Hange—and she did, until mid-January due to the increase of bookings they had after Christmas—but she feels that there is a fine line between “I think I’m crazy” and “I think I’m  _ crazy _ .”

The only problem is that she doesn’t know how to get in contact with Levi. The moments they have had been coincidental. Although maybe not the auto shop moment, or possibly when he was chatting with Armin. It would be creepy if he already knew where she lived and was following her.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Jean leaned against the wall beside Mikasa, champagne flute in hand. It took her a minute to come up with an answer.

“I’m thinking I would have been better off sleeping through the New Year.”

Jean hummed and clinked his flute against Mikasa’s wine glass. “Amen to that!”

The hotel lounge was bustling. Located in the uptown area, the hotel hosted a party every year to welcome in the new year without fail. Almost the majority of the city and neighboring small towns would flock to the hotel to enjoy the rich atmosphere. Mikasa used to come every other year during her high school and college years. She always enjoyed herself when she came. Tonight her thoughts are being too intrusive to let her have fun.

Eren decided not to show up this year. He chose to celebrate it with Annie at her home. A sharp and short exhale came from Mikasa’s nose, sipping her wine, knowing how those two would be celebrating.

“Where’s your friend Armin?” Jean asked, looking at the dense crowd of passersby.

“Last I’ve seen him,” Mikasa pointed her chin in a general direction, “he was being taken by Historia and Ymir to find him a New Year’s kiss.”

“He’s in good hands,” he remarked.

Mikasa rolled her eyes, her lips curving as she scanned the crowd. Groups of friends, couples, teens, and children were blended together that she couldn’t tell where social circles began or ended. If perhaps she did run into Levi coincidentally before, then she would have a high chance of finding him here. Unless he chose not to come.

“Are you looking for your New Year’s kiss, too?” Jean teased.

Goosebumps popped on her exposed shoulders. She couldn’t picture herself kissing who she was looking for.

She raised her wine glass in front of Jean. “I’ve already been making out with Pinot Noir since I got here.”

Jean shook his head, a small smile on his face. “Be easy with Pinot. They can give you an awful headache the next day.”

“Oh, I know,” Mikasa muttered into her glass.

They stayed in a comfortable silence watching the mingling crowd. The sound of a piano playing through speakers could be barely heard over the different conversations. Mikasa tugged her black, off-the-shoulder top back up. The chill from earlier was gone but she could feel a reminiscence of it from being away from the crowd. Her coat hanged on her forearm, not feeling a need to wear it.

From up ahead, Armin fought through the crowd to reach Mikasa and Jean. His face was tinted red and his hair was sticking up in places. Mikasa could see he was visibly breathing hard once he stood in front of her.

“You survived!” Jean commended.

Armin glowered at him from beneath his fringe. “Only by a hair’s breadth.”

Mikasa helped him smooth his hair. “What happened?”

“Gay people can be aggressive sometimes. They switched from a potential kiss to a one-night stand. I had to get out of there.”

Jean busted out laughing, placing a hand to the wall behind him to hold him up. Mikasa tried to suppress the wry smile on her face, miserably failing.

“It’s not funny,” Armin said, exasperated. “I’m not interested in any of the sort right now.”

Jean patted his shoulder, his laughter dying down. “They had good intentions, buddy. Tell you what, once you feel up for it, I will be your wing-man.” Armin gave him a pained look. Jean furrowed his brows. “What’s with that look?”

“You’re finally looking like you’re having a good time,” Historia interjected as she sidled up between Armin and Mikasa. Ymir wasn’t far behind her.

Mikasa swirled the little wine left in her glass, taking her a moment to realize that she was talking to her. “I guess.”

Historia wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, you’re so hard to please. But that’s why I love you.”

Ymir handed a small slip of paper to Armin. He accepted it and looked it over, opening it to several rows of numbers.

“What’s this for?” he asked her.

Ymir smiled like the Cheshire cat. “Phone numbers. I’m surprised the last guy even gave his number considering after you ran off.”

Jean choked back his laughter, his shoulders shaking, as Armin slowly flushed again. Mikasa pitied him, and Historia smacked her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“He’s suffered enough,” Historia said. “Leave him alone.”

Ymir pointed to Mikasa. “Your next.”

“No, I’m not,” she said, simply. “What time is it, anyways?”

Armin pulled back his cardigan sleeve to check his wristwatch. “Twenty to midnight.”

“Damn, another year almost gone,” Jean said, chugging his champagne. “You guys have any resolutions you’re not gonna follow through?”

Armin face lit up as if remembering something. “Oh, Mikasa! I bumped into Levi on my way here.”

Mikasa’s heart rate picked up. This could be her chance to talk to him. Her stomach also grew queasy at the thought of talking to him. She mentally scolded herself. No more running.

“The guy from the restaurant?” she asked, acting uninterested.

Armin nodded his head. “Over in the lobby. He asked me about you.”

Historia was on Armin. “His name is Levi? How does he look? How is he like? Do you—”

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Mikasa interrupted.

She walked out of the safety of the circle to the war-zone of the crowd. While she nudged her way to the fountain, she kept trying to think of ways to approach him. He had asked about her. But now she realized she didn’t ask Armin in what way he had asked about her. She felt herself shiver again at the intrusive thought of kissing him.

_ Fucking Jean _ , she thought.

She made it outside of the ballroom into the semi-full hallway. People were standing idle, talking or scrolling through their cell phones. A couple of men were handing a water bottle to another man seated on a bench, clearly drunk. Mikasa passed by the too-long line for the bathrooms and avoiding running children coming from around the corner, coming to the almost empty hotel lobby.

The fountain was in the middle of the lobby. A stone sculpture of a woman with a horn spouting water. She stood on a pedestal with angels circling her, staring at her in wonder or fear. The bottom of the fountain was covered with coins. A bronze plaque at the front of the fountain read: OUR LADY SINA.

Mikasa walked around the fountain, looking back into the hallway and towards the front desk, an employee giving her a polite smile. She settled herself at the edge of the fountain. A stumbling couple made their way across the lobby, their hands all over each other. They waited for the elevator, antsy and pecking each other’s lips constantly. Mikasa averted her eyes from the couple to the doors leading to the hotel gardens. Her breath caught.

Levi.

He stood on the other side of the glass doors, watching her past the man in front of him. He excused himself and walked in. Mikasa could feel her stomach twisting, the wine threatening to give her a second taste. Her hand gripped the stone edge of the fountain, the other the wine glass. A gentle thrumming began at the base of her neck. He approached her like she was an animal ready to run. Mikasa did feel like running.

_ Don’t _ , she chastised herself.

Levi stopped an arm’s length in front of her. He towered over her now that she was sitting down. The lights overhead shadowed his eyes; a shade of blue that closely resembled of a certain dog she knew. An odd moment to be thinking about Ernie.

“Levi? I need to talk to you,” she said. Her voice wavered at his name and grew firm.

“We do but not here,” he acknowledged. “I can try and answer all your questions if you come with me.”

Mikasa worried at her lip. It’s what she wanted; to talk to someone about everything that’s been happening. Someone that has seen the craziness. A small part of her still cared that she would be talking to a killer.  Hell, he could be trying to do the same thing that Elias did to her. Mikasa saw the employees behind the front desk head over to the ballroom. The new year was imminent. Anticipation crackled in the air. At this point, she didn’t care as long as she got answers.

She set her wine glass beside her and rose, ignoring the hand he offered, wrapping herself in her coat. The countdown started, unionized voices coming from the ballroom and the gardens.

“Let’s go,” she said to Levi.

Mikasa started off the new year by walking out the door.

* * *

 

What would Carla think? She would smack her, give her a long lecture about “Stranger Danger,” ground her even though she doesn’t live under her roof. For the second time in her life, Mikasa left her circle of friends for a stranger. She has been berating herself ever since she got into his car.

The car ride was silent. Mikasa tried to open her mouth, to ask one of the many questions she had and that kept formulating in her head. She couldn’t due to not knowing where to start.

Mikasa could see the fireworks exploding in the rearview mirror as they drove away from the hotel. The fireworks were being launched off from boats in the river. Lights were on in almost every building. People walked up and down the illuminated streets. It would only be the downtown area alive during the night and the rest of the city sleeping. It’s breathtaking to see everyone cheering and embracing for the new year as they drove through the city. The city is awake.

Almost awake. The good cheer died down when she saw Levi entering Fritz District. She gazed out the window the whole time. They passed homeless and thugs looking at the sky from where the fireworks were being launched. The bits of light that could barely be seen over the tall buildings from the newer districts. The booms and hisses are not as audible but the echoes from the river are still a wonder to them all the same. There were some brave enough to step out of buildings and their shadows to get a better look.

Levi is the only one that Mikasa knows to stop at the stop signs in Fritz. When they stopped at a corner, Mikasa saw a boy—early teens—hypnotized by what little he could see of the fireworks. He stood in place, a cigarette burning between raw fingers. The hood from his worn red hoodie was pulled over halfway, pushing his dark curls forward into his face, his free hand held his hair back to see.  They stopped at that corner for possibly only one second, and in that one second, the boy’s awe was forever burned into her brain.

Mikasa kept thinking about the boy until the car slowed down to a stop. She perked in her seat when Levi cut off the engine. She was staring hard at the sign on the building, chewing her cheek. The building was dark, obviously closed, save for  _ Luna Lapis _ glowing in yellow.

She turned to Levi, and out of all the questions she had, she said, “What?”

Levi had already gotten off and was holding onto the door. “It would be better to show you first.”

She climbed out of the car as her mind wandered to the evening when Isabel had upgraded them to VIP. It was bittersweet to know that she should have trusted her gut on the off-feeling when she went down there.

Levi didn’t wait for her and rounded to the side of the building. Mikasa thought that he assumed she would follow him in. He may have assumed right and she trailed after him. She might as well since she left the hotel with him and came all this way. She needed answers. Someone to tell her she’s not really going crazy.

Levi placed his hand on the handle and entered into the dark kitchen. Mikasa was surprised that the back door was unlocked. Despite now being suspicious of Isabel, Mikasa didn’t figure that she would leave it unlocked.

“Watch your step,” Levi cautioned. He wove expertly in the dark, Mikasa listening to where his footsteps went. It didn’t take long for her eyes to adjust and to make out the dark figures of counter tops, refrigerators, and walls.

The sound of their steps became hollow, and from the minimal light coming from the large window at the front, they had entered the main dining area. Mikasa had a hand out in front of her and the other out to her side. She gasped when her hand bumped into a hard surface. The bar. In the dark, she could somehow sense that Levi had glanced over his shoulder at her.

They moved in the dark, Mikasa bumping into the corner of a table a couple of times, until Levi’s footsteps stopped. Mikasa squinted to see Levi’s arm sweep something aside and hold it. The burgundy curtain is so dark that it look like he was holding onto dark matter. The figure of his head jerked, and wordlessly Mikasa went into the staircase, her hands tentatively in front of her. There was a heavy fluttering as the curtain fell back in place. The step which Mikasa was standing on shifted when Levi stepped on it to brush past her. The slight touch made her flesh pickle and a buzz start at the back of her neck. It reminded her of when she was blinded on the staircase that evening with Armin.

The tips of her fingers grazed the wall as she carefully stepped down. Aside from the noise of their footsteps and Mikasa bumping into table corners, only white noise filled their ears. The further down they went, murmuring and laughter pierced through the white noise. A refreshing sound.

At the bottom of the stairs, Mikasa made out the figure of a tall dark lump in the corner away from the dimly-lit entrance. It wasn’t until the sounds reached her did she realize it was a couple in a passionate embrace. Levi seem to pay no mind to them and went inside. One of the men disengaged, his partner suckling his neck instead, to see Mikasa enter. He could see her almost clearly in the dark thanks to his cat eyes.

Mikasa entered the different world again. The same as before: lantern chandeliers, the blue  _ Luna Lapis _ above the wraparound bar, the alcoves. The difference is that there are more patrons mingling around the room. The tables have been put away somewhere, and it wasn’t crowded like the ballroom and gardens at the hotel.

Levi walked further in, looking back at her and motioning for Mikasa to follow him. People stepped out of his way so he could pass by as if he was someone of high importance. This meant that after he went by they would go back to where they were originally standing and block Mikasa off, causing her to circle around them. It continued happening. Once she would spot him and try to hurry not to lose him, she would be blocked.

Mikasa bumped into people because of this. She wouldn’t make eye contact, mumble an apology, and try to catch up to Levi. She was getting frustrated, rubbing at the buzz at the back of her neck. She could feel her cheeks flushing, her shoulders tensing. Mikasa swore that all eyes were on her.

Again, she saw Levi through the bodies. He was near one of the alcoves and seemed to be waiting. Mikasa headed his way but was cut off, bumping into yet another body. She was at her limit. This time she did make eye contact with the person, ready to give them a piece of her mind. She didn’t, stunned by the person’s eyes.

Widened and slitted pupils against green.

Cat eyes.

“Found ya!” An arm encircled Mikasa’s shoulders and Isabel pressed against her side. The light from the chandelier they were standing underneath made Isabel’s toothy smile brighter. Isabel looked at the person with cat eyes. “Sorry ‘bout her starin’. She’s still gettin’ adjusted.”

Isabel ushered Mikasa away before the cat eye person could respond. The crowd didn’t part for them like it did for Levi but some still stepped away to let them weave through. They were now by one of the alcoves.

“Thank you,” Mikasa said to Isabel. “I kept being blocked off.”

Isabel removed her arm. “Don’t sweat it. You just need to work up your dominance. If they don’t see you as your equal they’ll never let you by.”

“What did you mean when you said I’m still getting ‘adjusted?’” Mikasa asked.

“You’re one of us, right?” Isabel asked, baffled.

“One of you?”

“Yeah, like—”

“She isn’t,” Levi said, giving Isabel a rather pointed look. “She is a witness. You need to stop assuming that everyone is one of us.”

“I don’t assume about everyone,” she defended. “I just figured she was since…” Isabel trailed off and glared at Levi. “Never mind!”

“But what do you mean by one of you?” Mikasa asked indignantly. “You said you would answer my questions.”

Levi held out a hand to calm her down. “I will try, but I brought you here because I wanted to ease you in first. It’s not good to all of a sudden be pushed into this.”

“Too late for that,” Mikasa jibed. She recalled the dog park and the auto shop, her fingers unconsciously covering her wrist where the disfigured mark was covered by her sleeve. “I have been pushed, or rather forcibly pulled from the dog park bushes, into,” she gestured her hand around her, “whatever is going on. I have been clawed at, somehow drugged, seen the impossible of humans turning into wild animals, and you,” she poked Levi’s shoulder, “have popped in during those times. I think I have been pushed in enough over the last month!”

A handed land on her shoulder, it’s owner being Isabel, looking at her with pity. Isabel rubbed her shoulder, easing her off of Levi. She didn’t even realize she was towering over him, breathing hard from releasing her pent up frustration over the last month. It has really been a month. In a short month, she had seen some fucked up shit. Calling it fucked up shit was an understatement.

When her breathing normalized, the pity in Isabel’s eyes morphed into solemnity. She pushed past Mikasa and marched through the crowd. Mikasa was leaning on one of the alcove’s outer walls, Levi paying no mind to what just happened, when Isabel stomped on top of the wraparound bar. The bartender was confused and seemed to be mouthing something at her. She didn’t listen, placing her fingers in her mouth to whistle. The chatter and mingling died, the patrons paid attention to the hostess at the bar.

Isabel cupped her hands around her mouth. “Errybody out! I wanna go home and y’all ain’t lettin’ me!”

“Aw, c’mon,” someone moaned from the crowd.

“I’m fuckin’ serious! Get the fuck out or no more parties like this!”

The crowd complained as they either went back up the stairs or through the door leading to the kitchen. No footsteps could be heard from above the ceiling. It was soon empty in the room, aside from the bartender cleaning up, Levi, Isabel, Mikasa, and a couple of cats in the middle of the room.

“You too, Carlos,” Isabel said, jumping off the bar with ease.

The white cat hissed in her direction and dashed towards the stairs. The other one—cream colored—sauntered to them, rubbing itself on Mikasa’s legs. At any other situation, Mikasa would have picked it up and give it some love. Being in  _ Luna Lapis _ , she didn’t know if it was normal or not.

“Fuckin’ Carlos,” Isabel said, now joining them. “He needs to fix his attitude.”

Mikasa let out a long exhale. The buzzing at the back of her neck eased up, now a faint sensation. “What the hell is all this?”

“Too broad of a question,” Levi said, flatly. He didn’t waver at Mikasa’s look. He plopped down in the booth of the nearby empty alcove. “Look, this isn’t going to be easy. I can answer whatever you ask me but you can only gain a better understanding by living it.”

“I’m not planning on living it. I want to know what it is and avoid it.”

Isabel leaned up on the wall beside Levi. “Start with the stone. That usually leads towards somethin.’”

Mikasa frowned as Levi reached inside his shirt to pull out a pendant. A pendant she has definitely seen before. Her eyes widened and she sat down across from Levi staring at it. Wordlessly, he took it off and handed it to her. The heavy weight in her hands was the same, the black cord tied at the top, and the gold wings etched on the moonstone.

“You look like you recognize it,” Isabel observed.

Mikasa didn’t look up. “The dog I used to look after found one in the river.” Her frown returned, remembering. “It went missing after someone broke into my apartment.” She gave Levi an accusatory look.

“What? You think I stole it?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“How else would you have it?”

Isabel turned over her shoulder and called the bartender over. He was already at the doorway to the stairs but turned back at her request. Isabel only held her hand out, and knowing what she meant, the bartender removed a gold chain from around his neck, the same pendant hanging off it. Isabel passed it to Mikasa. Upon looking at it more closely, it was the same save that there wasn’t gold wings on the stone. No design whatsoever.

Mikasa looked at them puzzled, the bartender answering instead. “The stone is used for various reasons among Shifters. Mine has no emblem because I’m not a part of any group.” He nodded at Levi. “The emblem he has is of an elite group that brings in rogue Shifters. There are several others as well, each serving a different purpose.”

“By bring in you mean—?”

“To kill them,” he said. He reached back out for his pendant and slipped back around his neck. “Can I go now?”

Isabel waved him off, and he speed-walked to the stairs. “Most of the time they do end up dead. Some can be brought in and get the help they need,” Isabel clarified.

Mikasa traced the wings on the pendant. The buzzing she had felt in her neck was gone. A sort of feeling of peace took over instead. The cream-colored cat had jumped into the booth beside Mikasa, rubbing its head against her forearm.

“What other uses,” Mikasa lifted the stone in her hand, “does the stone have?”

Isabel looked up at the ceiling in thought. “It can be used for group identification, it can enhance a Shifter’s abilities. Uh, I think it helps mixed Shifters choose between forms, and by—”

“You mean that someone that turns into a wolf can have kids with someone that turns into a cat?” The image that Mikasa had in her mind was disturbing.

“Well, anybody can have kids. I think they have to be in one form, though.” Isabel touched her forehead. “I can never explain it well like Moblit used to.”

“The stone,” Levi said, his chin resting on his palm, “will only allow those mixed with a lycanthrope or cynanthrope heritage choose what form and its abilities it wants. It depends if you are born with them or develop the forms later in life.”

“The whole thing is a dice roll,” Isabel said, moving to pick up the cat that Mikasa had ignored. “There are known cases where people that have a long heritage of Shifters but they can’t shift at all.”

“What about biting?” Mikasa asked.

Isabel laughed, startling the cat in her arms. “If I had a dollar every time I heard that question. Shit, I would be livin’ in Sina District.”

Mikasa turned to Levi for the answer. “Unfortunately, that Hollywood bullshit applies. Only the canine Shifters have to be careful.” He reached back for his pendant from Mikasa, and she forced herself to return it to him.

A thought then came to Mikasa. “So what are you?”

“If I asked you that it would be racist,” Levi said drily. He turned his head to the side, mentally punching himself for that. “Even I know that was bad.”

“Okay,” Isabel said loudly, stretching out the word. Isabel mentally noted to herself to school Levi on his social skills. “That could be one way to think about it. The thing is Mikasa, Shifters don’t just come up to you and say: ‘Hey, I can become an animal! Wanna see?’ It’s kind of like getting naked in public.”

“It’s a vulnerable feeling,” Levi added. “For a Shifter, it’s like revealing their whole identities by shifting. One wouldn’t even know if their neighbor, boss, or partner is a Shifter. Anybody could be one but you would never know unless they choose to tell you.”

Isabel set the cat down, it rubbed against her ankles. “Part of the reason I opened up this place.” Isabel looked proudly around the vacant room. The lights from the chandeliers made her eyes glow considerably; green and dull gold. “I want Shifters to feel comfortable. Come to a place where they can be with others like them but don’t hafta show themselves fully.”

Mikasa stifled a yawn. Her eyelids felt fat and heavy, slowly blinking. Levi then stood up from the booth.

“Come on, I’ll take you back,” he said, checking his wristwatch. “It’s nearly two in the morning.”

Rubbing her eyes, Mikasa said, “But I want to know more. Earlier you said I was a witness. Will I have to go through something? What about Elias? He had—”

“You can come back here anytime in the evenin,’” Isabel interrupted. Her fingers were curled into her palm. “Right now, sweetie, you should head home and rest. You look drained.”

Levi had told her to wait by the back door upstairs. The cream-colored cat had walked ahead of her as if showing her through the darkness of the building. Levi had stayed behind to speak with Isabel. Mikasa had stood outside the entryway to listen to what they would say. She only heard inconhereable whispers before giving up.

At the back door, Mikasa rested a hand against her forehead as she checked her phone. The cat stayed near her. The first thing she saw were the messages from Historia.

**Historia:** Don’t be a fool and wrap his tool ^_^ have fun xoxo

_ 12: 43 AM _

Mikasa cursed and kneel down to scratch the cat’s head. It purred and leaned into her nails. It’s going to take her a long time to convince Historia that she didn’t have sex. Mikasa visibly cringed at the idea of having sex with Levi. She wonders what Armin has told the group when she left.

“You think it’s too late for me to leave town?” she asked the cat. No response. “Yeah, me too.”

“It’s a regular cat,” Levi said, quietly entering the kitchen. Mikasa didn’t even hear even the slightest tap from his footsteps. “Not a Shifter.”

“Thank the Lord then,” Mikasa muttered.

Once in the car, and waiting for it to warm up, a thought came to Mikasa. She angled herself to Levi, whom was tapping the steering wheel, eyes closed. The white light from a nearby streetlight made his side-profile appear sharper.

“Isabel isn’t a Shifter, right?”

“No.”

“Why did she figure I was one of you guys then?”

His eyes opened, the blue irises becoming more clear from the white light. He rolled his neck to look at her, his eyebrows slightly scrunched. He looked down at the gear shift.

“She assumed only because of what I had told her,” he said.

Mikasa turned more in her seat to face him. “What did you tell her?”

Levi instead put the car in gear. He didn’t say anything as they drove in silence. Mikasa thought of asking again, but she figured he had heard her clearly. She gave him the name of her apartment complex, and he nodded. She leaned her head on the window, fighting sleep. Was she really that tired? Now a days she depended on her sleep aid to go to sleep.

She must have actually dozed off. Levi had shook her shoulder to wake her. Looking out the window, she saw he was parked in front of her apartment complex. She looked back at Levi. One hand on the steering wheel, the other covering his mouth, not looking at her. She got off, and was about to close the door when Levi spoke up.

“Your smell,” he uttered. Levi then looked at her. “You have the scent of a Shifter.”

* * *

 

Eren sat at the mahogany table in Annie’s kitchen. He was shirtless, his skin pickling from the air. Annie was upstairs in her bedroom asleep. In his fingers he held the silver bullet he found at Mikasa’s. He has carried it around in his pocket for a little over a week. He hasn’t told anybody about it. Eren knew he should have at least the told the cops, but he didn’t want to send Mikasa into a panic again, especially now that she seemed to be recovering. If it was evidence, then he had already tapered with it since he found it and picked it up.

He also couldn’t let it go. It kept nagging him as to where he has seen bullets like this one before. Sure in TV and movies but in real life. Every time he felt he like he almost reached the conclusion it slipped away from him.

“What are you doing with that?”

Eren jumped, his skin accumulating more goosebumps. He tore his gaze from the bullet to Annie with his button-up on, standing at the threshold of the kitchen. He could see her eyeing the bullet in his hand.

He tried to think of an excuse but came up with, “I found it.”

“Where?” She came to the table and bent to see it better.

So much for not letting anyone else know.

“In the city,” Eren responded, offering it out to her.

Annie didn’t take it, shaking her head. “It’s getting more dangerous.” She rubbed his bare shoulder. “Come back to bed.”

Eren grasped her hand as he pushed back his seat. He pocketed the bullet in his sweatpants and pulled Annie to him to kiss her. He could feel her soft flesh from the opened button up as she pressed up against him. Annie’s fingers dragged from his arms up into his hair, her fingernails scratching his scalp. A shiver ran down his spine, and he could feel himself stirring. Annie broke the kiss to peck his collarbone.

“I’ll be up in a bit,” he said, moving her mouth back on his. “Let me just get a drink of water.”

Annie climbed up the steps to the bedroom. Her mind clouded with the bullet in Eren’s pocket. She could recognize it from anywhere.

She raked her hands through her hair.  _ It’s getting dangerous, alright. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part is eight chapters and done. This one is a long one! (So are most of the other in part two). From here on out, it's action.


	9. Meeting

It has taken them a while to get used to the new life they have. They had narrowly escaped with their life after the rail bridge. After watching the shifter fall, they had struggled to the other end of the rail. Dots had danced in their vision, the edges of their vision blackening as they wheezed with every breath. They worried that every pain-shuddering step they took may be their last. They could feel their heartbeat from the wound on their back. They needed to find a replacement, and fast!

They had stumbled in search of a new body. They didn’t pay attention to where they were heading, anything to get away from the bridge. They had misstep and rolled down, shrieking at the impact and of stones and dead branches poking them. They had slowed down and came to a stop only who knows where! They sobbed from the pain. They were looking up at the sky through teary eyes. Faint orange towards the west, blue and indigo coming in east; the colors blending as night took over.

They tried to reach into their pocket where the object was. Their arms couldn’t even lift off the ground and they whimpered. They had tried calling reinforcements, willing even the weakest illusion to appear. Nothing. This couldn’t be their end! They’ve come so far and sacrificed so much. All that time tracking, the multiple lives, leaving to a different country—all a waste of time for nothing! They cried, unashamed, and thought of Mother. Mother would have nipped and taunted them for crying.

_ Useless! _ She would say.  _ A good for nothing milk-sucker! Can’t even hunt properly. _

“Holy fuck! Miss, are you alright?!”

A body! The sound of someone sliding down the embankment and then footsteps stopping abruptly as the person kneeled next to them. The person’s face hovered above their face. They could barely make it out through the dots and the dark edges. A white young man, droopy brown eyes and blond hair. A plain guy, easy to blend in. Perfect.

He removed his sweatshirt, rambling about calling an ambulance, and laid it over them. He pulled out their cell phone, and before he pushed the call button, they willed their hand to grasp him. He looked down at them.

“Please,” they rasped. The man had to lean down to them to listen. “My pocket. Please.”

The man hesitated. They inwardly grew more frustrated. Men now a days didn’t grab a hold of women like they used to. They had to urge the young man each time he turned back to face them, still seeing if it was alright.

They felt his timid hand enter the pocket and pull out the object. The man held it out in between them, staring at it interest. A sphere grey like the moon.

With the man distracted, they worked up the last of their energy. A buzzing sensation started at the base of their neck and it grew until it was spiking. The interest in the man’s eyes disappeared and he stiffened, his eyeballs were the only part of his body able to move. He made eye contact with them and his mouth fell open. The sphere in his hand went from grey to silver as it came to life. White clouds swirled in the sphere as they switched. For a moment, it was as if they could see everything from the sphere. The woman’s body they had borrowed as they left it behind, passing the young man’s soul, and shooting to the new body.

They woke up facing the sky, now darkened and speckled with stars. The spiking sensation was now fading. They sat up, their vision now cleared, the now grey sphere still in their hand. The woman’s body with the young man’s soul lay closely. They could see the confusion and pain in the eyes. They couldn’t help smiling in relief. They survived!

They stood up, taking back the sweatshirt from the woman’s body. The eyes stared up at them, the young man confused that he was looking at himself. As a reward for giving them his body, they crouched, and firmly grasping the top of the head and the jaw, killed the young man’s soul in the woman’s body.

They patted the pockets until they found a wallet. A photograph of a young woman, cards, and identification. A new life.

A week later, they had still been getting adjusted to their new life. Humans live so pathetically, but they needed to stay off the radar. The shifter they had dropped at the bridge was a very important member of the organization he belonged to. The organization would be on high alert from the loss of one of their strongest members.  

They were rounding a corner when someone bumped into them.

“I’m sorry.” The person rushed off.

“Bitch.”

The scent then slapped their nostrils, buried deep beneath the layers. An earthy, breezy smell —the smell of the motherland . They turned on their heels to look after the person. She was already far, they caught a glimpse of her hair in a bun and the side of her face as she turned the corner.

Antsy, indeed. They already lost a week. They will have to pick up speed. After switching identities many times, rebuilding their illusions and followers, hiring a hunter and lending him followers only to fail, they had resolved to head into the field directly.  In order to do so, they had to do a few things first. First, they’ll have to contact the shifter from the ancient bloodline. Second, they will have to find a way to enter the woman’s inner circle. 

* * *

 

The gym was dark. The closed sign was turned on at the front of the building. Mikasa sat in her car at the back of the building waiting. She was dressed in boxing shorts and shoes, a sports bra underneath her Red Hot Chili Peppers sweatshirt. She chewed on her fingernails as she stared off into the dark.

It’s has been a few days since she met with Levi and Isabel. A few days since Levi had told her she smelled like a shifter. She thought she heard wrong and had asked him to repeat.

He rolled his eyes as if repeating again was a bother. “Your smell. You smell like a shifter.”

To figure out what he meant, Mikasa had lifted her arm to her nose and sniffed. She picked up the smell of her detergent and nothing else. She sniffed her short tresses and was tempted to smell her armpits.

“Not your surface scent,” Levi said, “your blood. Do you have a family history of shifters?”

“I’m adopted,” Mikasa said flatly.

He didn’t give her  _ the look _ . Whenever people found out that Mikasa is adopted they would give her a look. A blankness of not knowing how to follow it up or a mix of bewilderment and pity.

“Well, time to dig up your lineage. You reek like a shifter.”

With her mouth hanging open, she slammed the car door and stomped into the apartment complex. She didn’t hear him pull away. She did see him drive off when she was in the lobby.

Mikasa had thought about her birth parents before. She had dreamed scenarios of tracking them down and meeting them. How they would look like, sound like, smell and feel like. Then those dreams would take a realistic turn and she would ask them why they didn’t keep her. They could have not been financially stable. Maybe one of them wasn’t around and the other couldn’t raise her by themself. They could have simply not wanted her. Mikasa would rather hear that they were addicts than them telling her they didn’t want her.

It should be insignificant of thinking that a pair of strangers didn’t want her. In the end, a family chose her to love. Yet she couldn’t keep those thoughts quiet. The curiosity kept nagging her when she used to lay in bed and trace her wrist-mark. To know why the people who made her gave her up.

Did they give her up for her sake, or did they give her up without a second thought?

It’s been awhile since she thought about her birth parents. Grisha and Carla never talked much about them. When she had asked, they only let slip that her birth father used to be an acquaintance of Grisha’s. Nothing else.

If Levi has told her that she reeks of a shifter, which one of her birth parents was one of them?

The whole thing made her inexplicably angry. She knew nothing about the strangers that gave her life and here comes another stranger that tell her that she smells like a shifter. Mikasa doesn’t really know anything about herself. She barked with laughter, echoing in the small space of her car. The last time she felt this much rage had gotten her suspended from high school.

_ “This isn’t the one,” Levi had said to Elias. _

_ “If she isn’t the one it doesn’t matter—she is still one of them!” _

Mikasa punched her steering wheel, the horn blasting out. Elias had known that night about her. What frustrated her more was that Elias is a shifter as well, why attack her if she could be a shifter, too? What kind of shifter could she be descended from?

She bit down on her tongue. This is all based on speculation but she was still running with the thought that she could be a shifter. All because of a trigger-happy man with a moonstone pendant and a man-puma.

Another car pulled up and parked a couple of spaces away from hers. A woman with short blonde hair came out and leaned on the side of her car, waiting on Mikasa. Mikasa controlled herself and clambered out of the car.

The blonde woman didn’t say anything to her, walking to the back door of the gym to open it. They turned on the lights, switching the closed sign to open. Mikasa went into the main area where the boxing ring was at. She ducked beneath the ropes and waited for the blonde woman to finish booting up the system.

“Signed you in,” the woman called, strolling into the main area. She stopped by the gear. “So, gloves or no gloves?” She didn’t let Mikasa answer. “Let me clarify: how angry are you?”

Mikasa flexed her fingers. Her deformed wrist-mark peeked from underneath her sweatshirt. She boiled. “No gloves.”

The woman shrugged and ducked underneath. She assumed her position across from Mikasa. “Don’t go easy on this old woman.”

Mikasa took up her position. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Nanaba.”

They circled each other, their eyes never straying from each other. Mikasa clenched and unclenched her fingers. Nanaba broke the circling, aiming a right hook that was blocked by Mikasa’s left forearm. This gave her an opening and she kicked Mikasa’s left flank.

“No rookie mistakes now,” Nanaba huffed.

Mikasa flexed her core muscles, feeling the pain spreading around her ribs. She bit her inner cheek and dashed to Nanaba. Left, dodge, left, right, right, hit, block, hit.

“Come on!” Nanaba yelled, letting Mikasa recover from the last hit. Mikasa noticed that Nanaba was being generous in letting her catch her breath. This fueled her anger.

Nanaba went on offense this time and came unto Mikasa. Kick, hit, right, right, block, left, hit, kick, dodge. She was relentless leaving Mikasa in defense. Mikasa is better in offense, her defense being average, dropping below average when facing Nanaba. Mikasa clenched her teeth, and risking leaving her core open, she got closer and jabbed with her left knee at Nanaba’s side. Seeing the opening and the proximity they were in, Nanaba landed a hit at Mikasa’s stomach just as her knee hit her side. Nanaba faltered and grasped her side. Mikasa doubled over and fell to her knees clutching at her stomach.

Mikasa breathed in raggedly. Her eyes burned from the tears filling in her eyes. Her body shook from the pain and the thrill. Her knuckles were raw, her arms and shoulders tingling from the impacts. Her legs were also alive. The skin around her knee turning a bright red against her pale skin. She could hear her heart beating in her ears and feel the pulse all over her torso.

“Don’t let your anger take over,” Nanaba panted above her. She offered a hand to Mikasa, whom took it, pulling her up. They met eye to eye, Mikasa having to tilt her slightly up. Brown and grey. “Utilize it well. Control it so you don’t do risky rookie moves like that. You know better.”

Mikasa released her hand and raked it through her damp scalp. “Alright, let’s go again.”

Nanaba looked up at the ceiling, still clutching where Mikasa’s knee had hit. “Lord, help this old woman.” She backtracked away from Mikasa, taking her position again with a grin. “Best two out of three. I still got a job to do.”

By the time they finished, they had accumulated a small group of spectators around the ring. The huge analog clock above the free weights read seventeen to eight. Nearly three hours. Nanaba was red in the face, her pixie cut spiking up with sweat when she ran her hands through it. The parts of her flesh that wasn’t covered in clothing was red.

Mikasa waved to her and ducked underneath the ropes to clean up in the locker room. The spectators dissolved to their workout routines, some complimenting Mikasa on her fighting skills.

In the locker room, Mikasa braced herself against the sink as she stared at herself. Flushed cheeks, her short hair sticking against her forehead and neck. She missed when her hair was long enough to be tied back. Her shoulders visibly moved up and down as she slowed her breathing. She turned on the faucet and let the water run over her tender hands. She could feel the lactic acid in her body settling, knowing to expect soreness later in the day or the next.

She cranked the paper towel dispenser, running it under the water and wiping the sweat off with the soggy ball. She turned off the faucet with closed eyes, enjoying the coolness from the paper towels. Her anger no longer present,a semi-sleepy feeling taking over.

She threw the wad in a nearby can, and still facing the mirror, she lifted her sweatshirt. She grimaced at the large red splotches on her stomach and sides. A part of Mikasa found it satisfying.

“How the fuck are you still standing?”

Mikasa whipped her head to see Ymir, dressed in workout gear, watching her torso with wide eyes. She didn’t hear her come in, or see her at all in the vacant locker room.

“How?” she asked again, punctuating with her hand at Mikasa’s soon-to-be bruises.

“I’ve been training since I was young,” Mikasa shrugged. She looked back at the mirror to see her bruises.

“Dude, I feel like crippling to my knees just by looking at you,” Ymir said, leaning against the tiled wall.

Mikasa let her sweatshirt fall back. “I’m used to it. I find it satisfying.”

“What? To know that you can bruise like a fucking banana.”

Mikasa turned to her, brows furrowing a bit. “Actually, yeah. It makes me feel..I don’t even know. I know that I like the feeling and that’s good enough for me.”

“Didn’t take you for a masochist.”

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, walking to the door. Ymir joined her. As Mikasa pushed the door open, she heard Ymir gasp.

“What?”

“Your hands,” Ymir said.

Outside of the locker room, Mikasa studied her hands. She rolled her sweatshirt sleeves slightly, her deformed mark and a couple crusted pierce scars appearing. Her hands were red, slightly puffy.

“Nothing a little ice can fix,” Mikasa said.

Ymir looked at her incredulously. “That too, but I meant your wrists. Jesus Christ, Mikasa!”

Mikasa assumed that Historia hadn’t told anything to Ymir about the night in the dog park. Of course, Mikasa didn’t tell Historia about the wolf-men and the gunslinger being Levi. She left that part out and only said that she got injured. Ymir didn’t seem to know anything about it at all.

“I was in an accident back in December,” Mikasa explained, tracing her wrist-mark. Ymir’s eyes went to the mark, and her eyes narrowed. “I’m surprised that they’re healing quickly. I was told that it could possibly take longer.”

They walked back out into the gym area.

“Sorry to hear that,” Ymir said. “For a second I thought you were self-harming.” Mikasa shot her a look; a  _ What? You mean me? _ Look. Ymir held her hands up. “Hey, you never know. You’re my girlfriend’s best friend so I just wanted to make sure.”

“That’s nice of you, but it’s nothing like that.” Mikasa glanced at the analog clock again and cursed. “I gotta be somewhere. Nice seeing you. Tell Historia I said ‘hi!’”

Ymir waved to her as she retreated back to the lobby. Ymir headed over to the free weights, picking up a set of twenties. She looked at herself in front of the mirror, her mind elsewhere. The EDM music blaring from her headphones might as well be white noise.

That mark on Mikasa’s wrist. Her sense of smell isn’t that good but she never figured that Mikasa was… Ymir shook her head at her reflection. Don’t assume. That type of shit never flies well.

Ymir kept staring at her reflection. Her gaze moved from her moving arms to her eyes. The slitted pupils against caramel. Ymir closed her eyes and when she opened them again, they were back to normal.

* * *

 

The chief looked over the available paperwork stoically with tired eyes. It wasn’t a full report on the four oddball bodies found in Fritz District, but it was a report nonetheless.

The lieutenant stood in front of his desk, arms behind his back. His face carefully studying the aging man in front of him. Wrinkles, receding grey hair, sun spots in the bald areas. Dot Pixis wasn’t judging. He also had face wrinkles himself, heavy eyebags, and he wished he had a receding hairline —he’s bald.

“Erwin Smith is in charge of this case, sir,” Pixis said.

“So I’ve heard,” the chief commented. He adjusted his spectacles. “Caused a headache to get this case in his hands.”

The sound of pages turning filled the office space. “We’re trying to get the toxicology report as fast as we can. You can expect it in the next couple of days.”

The chief closed the file, releasing a long exhale. “This should keep the press satiated for now. Rather unfortunate that someone released a video with the bodies visible online.”

“A mistake that Smith and I will shoulder.”

“It was those damn deputies at the scene that had to open the front door to the public!” the chief grumbled.

“Again,” Pixis repeated, “Smith and I will shoulder that mistake, Chief Zackley. The deputies that were on the scene had never been around a murder scene before.”

Zackley grunted wordlessly and sipped from a mug with bronze liquid inside. It could pass for tea, but Pixis knew that it wasn’t. It was the same thing he did when he was having a hard time during work.

“If that is all, Lieutenant,” Zackley said, waving his hand in dismissal.

Pixis closed the office door behind him. Smith waited for him on the bench outside of the office. He had been hunched over in his seat, sitting up straight when he came out. They left the hallway to the elevators.

“Did he buy it?” Erwin asked once the elevator doors closed.

“Seems so,” Pixis answered. “I don’t think he’s worried about the toxicology report. He just wants the press off his back.”

“He didn’t say to close the case, did he?”

Pixis shook his head. “No, so he will still want updates for himself. As do I.”

Erwin nodded his head. He did, too. “Has Rico traced to where the video came from?”

“She traced the IP address to a public library computer. The information that she got from who used the computer only lead to a nonexistent person.”

“Nonexistent?”

“Fake name, phony number, and the address belonged to an animal kill shelter,” Pixis informed. “Rico is double-checking, saying she needs to trust her gut on this.” The elevator doors opened and they step off to the side as others boarded. “Right now everything is at a stand-still. I need you to keep this moving so we can follow procedure and close the book once again.”

“Understood,” Erwin responded.

They parted ways, heading to their respective offices. Erwin hated when things weren’t moving. During these times he would be in his office, pouring over what they had so far, trying to find anything that they may have missed to go out into the field. The detective life wasn’t like the movies. Most of his work took place at the precinct.

His lips quirked at the corners. The detective life isn’t like the movies, but people turning into animals was something that could happen in the movies. Unfortunately, it was real life.

“Can I listen to the joke?”

Erwin stopped in the hallway as Officer Dreyse approached him. She may have been coming from the break room around the corner.

“Excuse me?”

“The joke that has you smiling like a lunatic,” she said.

He rubbed his mouth with his hand. He didn’t think he was smiling like a lunatic. “I don’t think so. I have been told countless times that my humor is inappropriate.”

Dreyse’s hands rested on her belt. “As long as it’s not sexist, racist, or a rape joke, it’s appropriate in my book.”

Erwin looked up at the ceiling as if considering. “You wouldn’t understand it,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s more of an inside joke.”

“Hopefully I can know the joke soon then,” Dreyse pouted. “Well, I’m off the clock. I just came by to drop off the cruiser. See you around, detective.”

“Same here, Dreyse.”

“Call me Hitch.” She walked past him to head to the front of the building.

Erwin was about to continue to his office, when he called back to Dreyse. She stopped at the end of the hall.

“Was there anything else at the auto shop that day when you responded the call?”

“You mean aside from a traumatized boy and the dead bodies?” Dreyse took a few steps until she was close enough not to yell.

“Anything. It could have been something small,” Erwin proded. “Something one may not even consider.”

Dreyse rocked on her heels and looked at the floor in thought. Her short hair covered her face. She shook it back when she looked at Erwin. “Well, there’s the graffitti but that’s normal in Fritz. Uh…” Her eyes lit up. “Oh! I remember seeing paw prints. Wouldn’t be surprised if it was a stray.”

Erwin frowned. “Paw prints?”

“Yeah. They were large, though. Kind of like a large dog. Those prints would be long gone by now.” Her eyes took a questioning look. “Would that be something important?”

A large dog’s paw prints. No regular wolf would stroll into the city. A shifter would.

“Not really,” Erwin said, taking up a disappointed tone. “Thank you...Hitch.”

“No problem,” she beamed.

In his office, Erwin took out his cell phone. He dialed a number, hearing the ringing through the receiver. He held his breath, preparing for the onslaught once she picked up.

“What?! It’s not even ten in the fuckin’ mornin!’ I’m tryin’ to sleep! D’you have any—”

“Good morning to you, Isabel,” he interrupted. “I need you to do something for me.”

He heard her groan an agreement. Erwin lowered his voice and made his request.

* * *

 

Jean yawned, his eyes tearing up. He sat behind the front desk in the apartment complex. He was still on winter break; the semester wouldn’t start until next week. He had picked up extra shifts to keep himself busy. Normally he wouldn’t do this, much preferring to laze about. Lately, though, his life has been boring. He ate, slept, worked, and studied. Rinse and repeat.

_ I’ve turned into Mikasa _ , he thought, scrunching his eyebrows.

From his backpack, he took out his laptop and turned it on. Might as well watch something to pass the time. He was stuck between  _ The Butterfly Effect _ and  _ Space Jam _ when he heard the doors swish open. He glanced up and smiled nervously at the short-haired woman coming to the desk.

Hitch rapped her knuckles on the desk when she got close. “Slow day, Johnny-boy?”

“Don’t call me that,” Jean sighed. “Reminds me of my mom. Aren’t you on duty right now?”

“I’m getting off my shift. Just thought I would stop by on my way home and see how you’re doing.”

Jean looked around, making sure no one was around. He leaned across the desk, and in a low voice, “I thought it was a one time thing between us?”

“You didn’t think that the last couple of times,” Hitch scoffed. “You seem to like to fuck the police. Literally.” She winked.

Jean breathed in. The first time was when they met at the club when Historia invited him out. They both had been tipsy, sharing a cab back to Hitch’s place. The second time had been at Hotel Sina, both somehow finding each other in the crowd. Jean had gone to the hotel lobby to find Mikasa, hopefully in time to be his New Year’s kiss. He saw her back, leaving with a man with dark hair. Hitch had been passing by with a group, joining him when she noticed him sitting at the fountain. They both had splurged on a hotel room.

“I was feeling down during those times,” he said slowly.

Hitch rested her chin on her knuckles. “So I was a rebound, huh?”

“Well...” Jean hesitated. He was never good with words and women. “Not a rebound. I really don’t have a recent ex or anything, but I was just feeling down.” He added quickly, “There’s nothing wrong with you! You’re awesome, and I—”

“Jean just say that I was a rebound,” Hitch said loud and flat. “It would be much easier for the both of us.”

He could feel his body temperature rising. His eyes looked around for a distraction. He felt relieved to see Eren Jeager walking in.

“Eren! Hey, how’s it going?” Jean greeted.

Jean couldn’t blame the confusion that bloomed on Eren’s face. They aren’t really friends. When they did talk it was polite but one could feel the rough tension between them. Hitch swiveled her head to see who he was greeting. Eren looked between them, and Jean hoped that he would understand the look he was shooting him.

_ Please play along _ , he kept willing.

“You in trouble or something?” Eren asked, eyeing Hitch as he came up to the desk.

“He may be,” Hitch muttered flippantly.

“Damn,” Eren said, “what did Johnny-boy do?”

Jean internally screamed at the nickname.

Hitch turned and leaned her elbows and back against the desk. “Oh, he’s not being honest is all. Can rarely find someone honest these days.”

“Yeah…” Eren answered slowly. His eyes shifted from Hitch and Jean, working on putting two and two together. “Sounds like your guys’ problem. Thank whatever is up in the sky that I met someone honest.”

“Lucky you,” Jean gritted. He averted his eyes when Hitch looked at him over her shoulder. The elevator dinged open. Mikasa being delivered upon a tense, melodramatic scene.

“Am I missing a party or something?” Mikasa wondered, stepping out of the elevator.

It was dark in the club when she first saw her, but Hitch recognized her. She pointed a finger at her. “Hey, you’re that girl from the club, right? Like, a couple of days before Christmas.”

Mikasa frowned, studying the short-haired woman dressed in a police uniform. “Excuse me?”

“You shocked the whole table when you walked out with that handsome man.” Hitch rested her chin on her hand, giving her a flirty wink. “How was he, by the way?”

Mikasa gasped from remembering her and for what she had just said out loud. She saw Eren boring holes into her. Overprotective brother mode, activated. Her attention was back on the woman. “I remember now. You said I was old for leaving early.”

“Sorry about that,” Hitch apologized. “Seeing who you had left with, I would have left early, too. My name’s Hitch.”

She nodded her head slowly, unsure about Hitch. “Mine’s Mikasa.” She took Eren’s elbow, his eyes still on her, and pulled him to the door. “My brother and I have somewhere to be. It was nice meeting you.”

Hitch waved at their retreating figures. “Same here!”

“Bye guys!” Jean bid. Once they were out, he eyed Hitch. “So, do you th—”

Hitch walked off as well. “Bye Jean.”

He was alone again in the lobby. He wasn’t as bored as before, but he felt like total shit. He scrubbed his face with his hands and turned back to his laptop. After all that, he needed something lighthearted and clicked on  _ Space Jam _ .

* * *

 

Armin didn’t like the taut aura in the car. It had been like this since Eren and Mikasa picked him up. Clearly they had something going on between them. Armin would intervene and alleviate the problem but not in such an enclosed space like a car. A moving car on a highway.

From where Armin was sitting, he could see the veins in Eren’s hands popping out from squeezing the steering wheel. He shifted the surgical mask on his face, looking at Mikasa’s reflection on the window. She was staring outside at the changing scenery, her chin propped on her hand.

Mikasa had asked them to head back out to the smaller towns to see family over the weekend. Armin was still on winter break so he had agreed. He couldn’t wait to see his parents and grandfather. His grandfather for sure would insist on hiking out in the woods, sneaking out the guns into the back of his ‘86 Dodge from the prying eyes of his son and daughter-in-law. His grandfather always enjoyed taking out Armin and his friends to shoot.

_ “You never know when it could come in handy,” _ Grandpa Arlert would say.

Heading out back home with his friends, he also pictured a fun road trip with them. Gas station snacks, catching up, and blasting Bon Jovi, Bruce Springsteen, Van Morrison, or Fleetwood Mac. Not this silence with the whooshing of the wind outside.

Armin sneezed. Mikasa responded by blessing him.

“Oh, so now you’re talking?” Eren goaded.

“What? I can’t bless Armin?” Mikasa retorted. “You probably didn’t even clean your car thoroughly. That’s why his allergies are acting up.”

Armin tried to step in. “Mikasa, it’s —”

“You mean like how you were acting up at the club,” Eren taunted. “Walking out with a strange man you didn’t even know.”

“Please, Eren,” Mikasa started in a condescending tone. “I can take care of myself. Unlike yourself, you rely on people too much.”

“Guys, I think—”

“I rely on people I know! And I sure as fuck don’t leave my friends for some tail.”

“You’re not a saint yourself,” Mikasa sniffed. “Like you haven’t left us to go out to get your dick wet before.”

“That’s different! And it was with someone I still  _ knew _ !”

“What does knowing the person have to do with anything?! Goddammit, Eren! I can’t—”

“HEY!” Armin hollered. He could feel a scratchy sensation in his throat after that. Normally he wouldn’t shout like that but he had to do something before it got out of hand. “I don’t care what the fuck this is about.” Eren’s eyes dashed to him through the rear-view mirror. Armin also didn’t normally swear. “You guys need to cool off before working this out. Eren pull over.”

“What?”

“I said pull over!”

Eren signaled and switched lanes until he slowed down at the shoulder of the road. He pushed the emergency lights button. Once the car came to a stop, Armin climbed out and circled over to the driver’s side. He had removed his jacket in the car and he shivered as he opened the door. Eren looked at him confused.

“Get out. I’ll drive. You shouldn’t be driving angry. I want to see my parents alive and not in a casket.”

Eren shook his head. “Armin, I can—”

“Eren, get in the back!” Armin shouted.

Mikasa was staring from the passenger side. She saw Eren uncurling his death-grip from the steering wheel, a slight squeaking from skin stuck on leather, and begrudgingly letting Armin take the wheel. Eren shoved himself into the back and Armin took his place behind the wheel. Mikasa whipped her head to look back out the window when he looked at her.

He adjusted his seat closer to the wheel, buckled up, and signaled back onto the highway, turning of the emergency light. He saw Eren through the rear-view mirror, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth pouting, arms crossed. He sat in the middle of the back seat.

Eren kicked Mikasa’s seat with his foot. Mikasa groaned and they bickered. Armin huffed before half-turning in his seat, eyes still on the road, to smack Eren.

“Quit it! Both of you,” Armin said, eyeing Mikasa beside him.

Silence enveloped them again in a thick fog. Armin sniffled behind his mask. This is definitely not how he pictured the road trip.

After three hours of driving, Armin felt relief when he saw the sign showing they were entering back into their town’s boundaries. He could barely make out the lettering over the evening winter sun. The headlights from Eren’s Jeep turned on automatically then.

WELCOME TO SHIGANSHINA

_ Population: 1,856 _

His lower back was hurting and his ass was numb. His shoulders felt stiff and his eyes weary. Both Eren and Mikasa had fallen asleep along the road at some point. He had turned on the radio a long while ago. He couldn’t bear the silence any longer. He had switched the stations a few times as they went through different ranges. Now it was playing his favorite station;  _ Landslide _ lulling him as he drove through the familiar roads.

“Hey,” he whispered to Mikasa, shaking her shoulder.

Her eyes flew open and she sat up straight. She rubbed her eyes. “Where are we?”

“Home.”

Mikasa sat back and watched the town bathed in the blue twilight. Armin had woken her up during a fleeting hour, especially one that would be gone in the blink of an eye during winter. She glanced over her shoulder to see Eren stretched out in the back seat, asleep. He still held his frown in his sleep.

“You should text Carla or Grisha that we’re here,” Armin said. “Only two more minutes, five at most.”

Mikasa did as he told, yawning. Not long after she texted Carla—Grisha would have ignored it—Armin pulled the Jeep into the Jeager driveway. Armin cut off the engine. It felt empty without the thrum of the car. He reached into the backseat for his jacket, waking up Eren in the process.

Mikasa was out of the car before Eren could say anything. She opened the trunk to get their bags, Armin helped her.

“I really wish you would talk about what’s bothering you,” Armin said, tugging his duffel from Mikasa. She didn’t let it go. “Something’s bothering you really bad if you wanted to come back to Shiganshina for the weekend.”

From the yellow-orange light of the trunk, he could see Mikasa’s knuckles whiten. He lowered his head to look at her face hidden behind her short curtain of hair. She turned away and released her grip on his bag, picking up Eren’s instead.

“I can’t,” she brokenly whispered.

She trudged up to the house, the door opening as Carla greeted her. Armin lowered down the cover on the trunk. Eren was standing at the side of his car, waiting for Armin. His gaze was at the house. Carla hugging Mikasa and marveling about her hair before his sister brushed past her.

“I’m worried about her, that’s all,” Eren said.

Armin handed him back his keys. “As am I. The difference is that I don’t baby her.”

“I don’t—”

“Eren,” Armin heaved. “Enough. It’s late.”

The next morning, a heavy weight jumping on him startled Armin awake. He grunted and snapped his eyes open only to shut them back. The lamp light beside his bed blinding him.

He patted a warm, soft mass. “Grandpa, get off!”

Grandpa Arlert snickered and got off of Armin’s legs. He dimmed the lamp light and watched his grandson open his eyes, rapidly blinking.

“Come on, boy,” he loudly whispered. “Dawn’s coming up. Dress warm and come out to the driveway.” He soundlessly left the room without another word.

Armin rested his hand on his belly, staring up at his ceiling. The glow-in-the-dark stars he had stuck up there have dimmed down over the years. He rolled out of bed and dug through his closet. The old man would wake him up this early for one reason: to go out hiking and shooting. While changing he looked around his bedroom.

The same he had left it when he left Shiganshina. White walls except for one accented mint green. The navy blue sheets on his bed was messy; his triceratops stuffy, a gift from Eren when they were six, was on the floor. His organized computer desk, a bookshelf with the books aligned in alphabetical order by the author’s last name, and a turntable with the vinyl records in a milk crate beneath it.

The one thing that seemed like it didn’t in Armin’s room was the stuffed hare at the top of the bookshelf. His first kill. Armin had cried when he nailed it on the neck. He hadn’t wanted it to suffer. Still, his grandfather was so proud he took the carcass to a taxidermist and had it stuffed. Grandpa Arlert thought he kept it at the top of his bookshelf to proudly display it. Armin kept it up there to keep it out of sight.

Armin tip-toed out to the bathroom. He passed by his parents’ bedroom, hearing his father’s snoring. How his mom could sleep through that was a miracle in itself. In the bathroom, he washed up and “borrowed” one of his mother’s elastics and tied back his hair. Maybe he should follow Mikasa’s example and cut if off soon.

He stopped at the coat closet to get out his jacket. He jumped when he saw Mikasa after he closed the door.

“What are you doing?” he hissed, clutching his chest.

“Your grandpa wanted me to see what’s taking so long.” She turned back to the open front door. “Hurry up.”

“I meant,” he said, “I wasn’t expecting you to join. I don’t exactly feel comfortable with you and Eren carrying guns while angry.”

“We reached an agreement not to shoot each other. That would kill the whole mood.”

Armin narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to be funny?”

“No,” Mikasa huffed. “Besides, I don’t want to miss out on this.”

Armin locked the door behind them. They walked to the Dodge, Grandpa already behind the wheel. Eren sat beside him in the cab, chattering away.

“You used to be so against this.” He crossed his arms. “Why the sudden change?”

Mikasa grabbed a hold of the side of the truck. “With everything lately, I think I need the practice.” She hauled herself over into the truck bed, sitting down on the lining. The guns were hidden underneath a blue tarp.

Armin opened the passenger door. “You sure you don’t want to come in the cab?”

“Are you really asking that?” Eren said from the truck. “I’m in here.”

“Fair point.”

They drove out of Shiganshina heading to the outskirts. Small, hill-hidden town is sparsely decorated with trees. Once upon a time, the whole area used to be a forest of trees and vegetation. Then people arrived and established Shiganshina. In order to this, the founders had cut down trees and chased away wildlife. If one continues driving south, it would be like time-traveling to the past. Tall trees, natural vegetation, and wildlife roamed freely.

Armin ate a banana, selfishly enjoying the warmth of the cab. He didn’t want to ride in the back, especially in the early morning of January. He glanced at Mikasa through the rear-view mirror. She was facing the rushing wind, her eyes gently closed. Her hair was pushed back and whipping around wildly but she didn’t look like she minded it.

Eren had his legs over Armin’s, out of the way for his grandfather to easily switch between gears. Grandpa Arlert tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the country music coming from the ancient radio. This is what Armin missed when he was in the city. The calmness that they would all feel before heading out into the woods.

His grandfather turned into a dirt path. Armin angled his head to look up at the sky. He saw Mikasa doing the same. The trees rose in tall spires into the sky. He could never get tired of the forest’s majesticness.

They came to a stop at a clearing. Armin nudging Eren’s legs off so he could clamber out.

“Not too rough of a ride, Miki?” Grandpa Arlert asked Mikasa. He was the only one that called her Miki and get away with it.

“Smooth as always,” Mikasa responded, standing up in the truck bed and toeing the tarp off.

There were several black cases. Two of them were Winchester ‘94. The three smaller cases held a .44 Magnum, a Browning 1911, and a Glock 19, respectively. There was a small duffel that held the ammunition; Grandpa Arlert always carried it.

Grandpa Arlert moved swiftly with the Winchester’s, loading them and setting the safety on. He handed one off to Armin to sling around his shoulder. The other went to Eren.

“Mind if I take this one?”

Armin had been looking into the distance, figuring where they would start heading. He turned back when he heard Mikasa’s voice. He had an uneasy feeling pooling in his stomach when she held up the Magnum.

Grandpa Arlert frowned. “That one has a strong recoil and not good for rapid fire. It’s too much for you, Miki.” He took out the Browning. “How about this one? You’re always good with it.”

“You must’ve had a reason for bringing out the Magnum. I could use a challenge, since I’m so good with the Browning,” Mikasa reasoned.

Grandpa Arlert’s mouth twitched visibly. He was pondering what to do. “I don’t wantcha to get hurt.”

Armin stepped in. “She’ll take the Browning, but she’ll shoot the Magnum under your supervision. Miki looks like she really wants to try it out.”

Another mouth twitch. “Alright, but I’ll carry it with me until we get to a good spot.”

Grandpa Arlert shouldered the ammunition and Mikasa handed him the case with the Magnum inside. He began to lead the way. Mikasa jumped out of the truck bed and they all followed.

“Hey, Armin,” said Mikasa, catching up to his side. “Thanks.” She grabbed his shoulder and pulled his ear close to her mouth. “But call me Miki again and your reptiles will never see you again. Got it?”

Armin shivered. “Loud and clear.”

Armin glanced at his wristwatch. The sun still hasn’t fully risen. The morning was frozen in a semi-darkness; the sky above a dark, cloudy grey. The woods are quiet around this time of year. The only sounds disturbing the quiet was the sound of crunching leaves below their feet, the occasional bird singing, and a subtle breeze rustling the pine needles. It’s home. It’s where they all came out with Grandpa Arlert and bonded over shooting tree trunks and large pine cones off of rocks.

Grandpa Arlert wasn’t exactly following a marked trail. He set out west, away from the sun behind the clouds, towards an area where they always came to a stop. The frozen earth was littered with pine needles and dead leaves. A toppled tree that had fallen long before even Grandpa Arlert had been born; the thick foliage and rotten base proved the tree’s old age. The trunks of the trees surrounding the clearing were pierced with many little holes. Dried-sap covered bullet wounds.

Grandpa Arlert stood behind Mikasa. Never stand beside a new-learner. He nodded at her posture, the way he taught her. Shoulders relaxed, grip the gun but hold it with your arms, one foot in front of the other.

“Squeeze don’t pull,” Grandpa Arlert reminded her.

Mikasa inhaled. Grandpa Arlert’s observant gaze weighed her down, knowing that he was looking for any mistakes to take the magnum away from her. Eren and Armin had moved off to the opposite end of the clearing. They weren’t talking, probably seeing how she would do. A breeze had been gently blowing since they entered the woods. The bird singing disappeared. Mikasa exhaled.

Her ears ringed. Her arms moved from the recoil, more than when using the Browning. Mikasa could feel her arms and hands straining from the recoil. She couldn’t tell if the heat in her palms is her own or from the gun.

Grandpa Arlert came up beside her staring at the makeshift target; a large, green pine cone on top of the fallen tree. It stood where it was, unharmed. On the other hand, the trunk behind the pine cone now sported a huge hole. He took the gun from her trembling hands, putting the safety on.

“A good try, Miki,” he commended. “Rest your arms and then start with one of the others.”

Shame. Mikasa looked down, rubbing her hands and arms. She went to Armin and Eren. They unslinged the rifles and were aiming at the line of green pine cones on the boulders. Armin took his time between each round. Eren moved mechanically, allowing shorter intervals than Armin. Mikasa stood behind them until the line was down.

Armin glanced at her from over his shoulder. “Are your arms okay?”

Mikasa stopped rubbing her arms, the straining calming down. “I’ve had worse.”

Catching her joke, Armin grinned. “You sure have. Not everybody is fit for the Magnum. I remember trying it out and it nearly flew into my face.”

Eren looked at Armin incredulously. “You fired the Magnum before? Why?”

“Same reason that Mikasa probably had. To feel power. To feel in control.” Armin’s eyes returned to Mikasa’s. “Am I close?”

She could feel herself flush with embarrassment. “Yeah.”

“Why?” Eren repeated.

“With everything that has happened,” Mikasa said, “I wanted to feel...secure again.”

Eren didn’t say anything else, leaving to set up a new line of pine cones. Armin grabbed a hold of her hand, squeezing it softly with reassurance.

For the rest of the time, Mikasa chose to sit back and see them shoot. Grandpa Arlert joined the boys in the line shooting, soon turning it into a competition. It was nostalgic to Mikasa to hear them bickering over who shot what.

There was more light, as much light as there can be on a January morning. The cold slowly becoming less harsh as time went by. Mikasa looked up at the canopy of trees, her eyes squinting at the minimal light. A crow squawks echoed in the woods. They would probably start heading back to the truck soon, drive back to Shiganshina and grab brunch with the Jeagers or Arlerts.

Mikasa brought her eyes back down from the sky. A movement out of the corner of her eyes stole her attention. In the distance, standing on top of the fallen tree, a red body with a white underbelly. Dark legs and pointed ears. A fox.

It ignored the commotion coming from the boys, staring only at her with animalistic eyes. She opened her mouth to get the guys to see the fox, only no sound came out. The fox turned its head to go back into the woods, its body following after it. Wordlessly and without thought, Mikasa followed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAUTION: I do not recommend that you do bare-knuckle boxing if you are a beginner or just plain stupid. It hurts like a motherfucker and it still does no matter how many years you have been training. You can build up a tolerance but I still wouldn't recommend. Also, it should be pretty obvious why guns are dangerous.  
> I'm not done with part two but I decided to post this up to give you guys a taste of what's going to happen. Thank you to everyone thus far, and continuing, for supporting my amateur writing!  
> P.S. I have posted a link in my bio of the playlist that helps me write Who Are You Calling A Bitch?. Just copy and paste.


	10. Hunt

Woods. Mikasa is standing in the middle of the woods. Déjà vu overwhelms her. She has been in this position before. She looks away from the fox in front of her to her hands. They weren’t small like in her dream. This is happening now. She looks back up and a cold pressure develops in the pit of her stomach when she sees that the fox is nowhere. 

She turns in circles where she currently is, searching for any flare of red fur. The frigid wind rustled the needles and leftover leaves on the tree branches. A crow cawed ominously in the distance. She couldn’t tell if she was shaking from fear or the cold.

“Armin!” No answer. “Grandpa Arlert!”

Mikasa grasped her arms to hug herself. The back of her neck buzzed. 

“Eren!” she choked. 

Mikasa cowered. She squatted where she was, shuddering. Alone and lost in the woods. Mikasa wanted to cry. So this is how she got to be in the middle of the woods. The howls and snarls of dogs were the only thing missing from her dream. Mikasa pulled back her sleeve on her wrist. She traced her disfigured mark. Her neck hummed. 

Why did she follow the fox? Was she even herself when she followed the fox? Was she under another trance? Did Eren or Armin even hear her leave? 

She didn’t bother checking her cell phone. There is no signal out in the woods. Mikasa stopped tracing her mark and lowered her head onto her arms and knees. Her shivering wouldn’t allow her to stand up.

_ “Child.” _

Mikasa didn’t look up. She had heard that voice before. Unlike Levi’s voice, she couldn’t pinpoint who it sounded like. Neither masculine or feminine. Gentle. It spoke to her in the dream and at the dog park. 

A wet nose nudged her arm, making her flesh goosebump. The buzz in her neck intensified into a pulse. She lifted her head, still resting on her arms and knees, to see the fox. She fell back on herself when she saw how close it was to her face. 

She took in the fox in front of her. It was bigger than she imagined what a normal fox would be. Up close she could see an oddity in the fox’s fur. It wasn’t covered in gnats or mud. It was clean, as if someone groomed it everyday. Her eyes came to rest on the vulpine face. Dark, slitted pupils on red irises. Much more intense up close.

_ “Child.” _

Mikasa jumped. Did it talk to her? Aside from the point that its mouth didn’t move, it’s not possible! Then, what? Did it talk to her telepathically? A telepathic fox? 

Hange is going to have a field day next week.

The fox tried to nudge her arm again. Mikasa jerked it back before it could touch her. It gazed at her, somehow making her feel...ashamed. The shame she would feel when Carla would scold her. It reached again for her arm and she let it. It’s nose twitched and little snuffling noises came from it. 

It came to her wrist and nibbled the sleeve. Mikasa slowly peeled it back, the cold air prickling her warm skin. She stopped halfway to her forearm, pulling it back more when the fox nibbled again on her sleeve. The scars on her right arm were now out in the open.The fox then moved to her left arm. It nibbled on her sleeve once, Mikasa pulling her sleeve back until the scars on that arm were in view.

The fox stepped a little closer to her. It sniffed her bare arms, its whiskers tickling her sensitive skin. It pulled back when it brushed against her mark. 

“Yeah, it’s messed up,” Mikasa said more to herself. “Long story to how it happened.” She smacked her forehead. The fox jumped at the sudden motion. “I’m talking to animals. Fuck, I’m turning into Eren!”

_ “It is not ruined. It still withholds its value.”  _ The voice echoed around. It didn’t particularly come from the fox, it seems. It also wasn’t exactly in her head.

The fox lowered its snout again to the mark and licked it. Mikasa grimaced at the animal’s tongue on her skin. She didn’t jerk it away. The pulse at the back of her neck moved to her arms. Mikasa’s eyes widened and her mouth opened. 

The fox had stopped licking her mark. The surrounding skin glistened with saliva. The mark itself, turned white from its original black. The scar that disfigured it faded almost in the blink of an eye. The rest on her arms disappeared, the skin becoming smooth again. The pulsing moved from her arms back to her neck. Her mark still glowed white.

Mikasa looked to the fox sitting in front of her. She choked on an intake of air. The irises of the fox were white and no longer red. Its red fur lightened to a shade of orange. Its black legs were now tawny. 

She couldn’t speak. No matter how much she tried to say something, no words came. Wheezes of air was all Mikasa could manage. 

The voice echoed,  _ “It has been ages. It is time to awaken.” _

The fox dissipated in front of her. Its legs went first and the rest of the body followed. The fiery white eyes were the last to go. Mikasa was left staring at the woods ahead of her. The pulse ceased in her neck abruptly. Glancing down at the mark on her wrist, it had gone back to black as before it was disfigured.She tentatively touched her skin. Her cool fingertips grazed up and down her arms feeling unmarred skin.

It was real.

“...asa!”

Mikasa whipped her head behind her. Someone calling for her. She shakily pushed herself up from the frozen ground, adjusting her sleeves back down to cover her arms. She wouldn’t be able to show anybody her arms. It would be difficult to explain how the scars are gone after such a short time. 

“Mikasa!”

Mikasa looked up at the canopy of pine and skeleton branches. No wind was blowing like when they arrived. The crow that had been cawing stayed silent. 

The quiet was disturbed by the sound of stomping, crushing leaves and snapping twigs. Mikasa looked down from the canopy to see a wild-eyed Eren. The apple of his cheeks and nose were red from the cold. He had the Winchester in front of him, shouldering it back when he saw Mikasa.

“What the fuck?!” Eren yelled. “You left out of nowhere without saying shit!” She didn’t respond, and Eren saw the look in her eyes. A horrified look, a tremble in her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

Mikasa trudged to him. The worry and confusion becoming more prominent on his features. Her head tilted back to look up at her brother. She let herself fall into him. Eren stumbled back from the unexpected weight. Her arms wrapped around his waist tightly, burying her face in his shoulder.

Eren hesitantly wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He leaned his cheek on the crown of her head. He soften his voice and repeated, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m really tired,” she heaved.

On the ride back to Shiganshina, Mikasa took her place on the truck bed, ignoring the other’s protests to sit in the cab. Her back leaned against the back window of the truck, watching the woods as they left. The woods stayed silent and still.

* * *

 

From an outside and shallow view, Hitch could understand how people viewed her. A loud, partying, daddy-issue having floozy. Out of uniform, one look at her and people would automatically picture that. In uniform, they would think of her as such when she would start talking. 

Hitch can get loud, and she likes to go out and have fun. Sure, she did have some daddy-issues, but what’s wrong with a woman having casual sex?  It sometimes made her job as a police officer difficult. Times have changed but she can still see the underlying doubt whenever her or her female co-workers were dealing with a call, paperwork, and their male counterparts. 

Hitch became a police officer for several reasons. One, she couldn’t afford to go to college and attending the police academy was cheaper. Two, she wanted to live comfortably; selfish, but who isn’t? Three, she wanted to diminish the brutality that certain officers inflict on people, more so people of color. When they would put on the uniform some developed a superiority complex, and next thing you know a civilian is dead and the officer only receives a slap on the wrist. Fourth, she had people to prove wrong.

None of her classmates expected Hitch to become an officer. She could still see the bewilderment on their faces when she had announced her decision. She had cut off people who she thought of as close friends when they told Hitch she wouldn’t even last a week as a cop. The reason? They saw her as that dumb, party girl.

High school relationships aren’t meant to last anyways.

Hitch was parked outside a Walgreens. It’s her day off, but Rico Brzenska had called her in on a favor. Her little bottle of Advil she kept in her glove compartment was empty and her head was pounding from last night’s binge. She had gone to visit a friend she hadn’t seen in a while, leading them to a bar to celebrate her friend finally getting a boyfriend. A little bittersweet after what had happened with Jean but nothing alcohol couldn’t help fix.

She pinched the bridge of her nose harshly, both for the headache and to scold herself. Hitch prided herself on not becoming attached to men. She has had a few relationships, but they were short and fizzled out fast. She much preferred no strings attached. From personal experience, seeing how her father walked away, and how her mother jumped from man to man, Hitch promised herself not to depend on men. 

She also expected it to be a one time thing with Jean. He left her apartment before she woke, a first for her. A one-night stand from the club then turned into another when she saw him at the hotel. Hitch had been with some co-workers when she saw him hunched at the fountain, not looking as excited for the new year. They talked, slowly leaning into each other, quickly transforming into the many couples that couldn’t wait to get to their hotel rooms. Hitch had been woken by him changing the next morning. She tried to talk to him but he was closed off from her, not saying anything else but bidding her a happy new year as he left.

Hitch would catch herself thinking about him during random times, and it irked her. So, to quell these unwanted thoughts, remembering their conversation at the hotel fountain, she paid him a visit after a night shift. She would’ve loved to head home and crash into her bed, but she wanted to put her thoughts at rest.

Walking into that apartment complex was a bad idea. She saw him immediately at the desk on his computer, and her mind blanked as she strolled up to him, spouting whatever first came to her mind. Hitch let out a noise of frustration at the embarrassing memory. She went up foolishly, embarrassing both of them in a public area, only for her to end up walking out.

Hitch got out of her car and slammed the door shut. The noise made her head throb. Even her hangover couldn’t get rid of her thoughts of him!

She ignored the greeting from the cashier and sped to get her pain relievers and get out. Item acquired, she stopped to get a water bottle and started back to checkout. Hitch stopped at an aisle when she saw a boy slipping a box of crackers under his sweater. She quietly stepped up to him and tapped his shoulder.

He whipped around, eyes wide at being caught. Hitch immediately recognized him.

“Bruno!”

Bruno looked away from her eyes. He didn’t need any prompting to place back the box of crackers back on the shelf. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, beginning to walk away.

Hitch bit her lower lip and rushed to tap his shoulder again. He partially turned around, looking at her from under his red hoodie. The same one he wore when she responded to his call.

“Want to join me for breakfast?” she asked. He lifted his head to look at her oddly. “I’m not trying anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Bruno shifted back and forth on his feet, considering her invite. “Okay.”

They were seated at a booth at a Denny’s close to the downtown area. It had taken a while to get there because of morning traffic and then a twenty-minute wait to be seated. Hitch tried to break the quiet in the car, Bruno only grunting or giving short answers. It was at least something.

After ordering, Bruno kept his straw in his mouth, occasionally sipping his orange juice as he played with the packets of jam and sugar. He had removed his hood when they left Walgreens. His curly hair sprung wildly around his head, falling into his eyes. His fingernails were bitten down to the nail beds; scarring around his fingers from torn hangnails. His eyes were bloodshot, possibly from lack of sleep; Hitch hadn’t smelled anything on him in the car. 

“D’you usually stare a lot?”

His question brought her out of her observations. He had stopped looking around and was waiting for her to answer. 

“Does it seem like I do? My bad,” Hitch apologized. “I’ve just been wondering how you’ve been doing since?”

He chewed on the straw. “Why?”

“Well,” Hitch started, “you did walk into a...traumatizing scene. Some of the officers that were on site have also been having nightmares.”

“Have you?”

Hitch thrummed her fingers on the table. It wasn’t her first time seeing a dead body, but that time was different. It was… otherworldly, like straight out of a fiction novel. “Can’t say I haven’t.”

Bruno nodded his head, the straw moving with the motion in the glass. 

“You haven’t answered me,” Hitch said, “How have you been?”

He let go of the straw and leaned back into the booth. His gaze was fixed on the table. His hands retreated into the pouch of his hoodie. “Same, I guess.”

Hitch frowned. “Same as in also having nightmares, or same as in…?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “I just feel the same. I got other stuff to worry about.”

“What stuff is worrying you then?”

His gaze lifted from the table to her, questioning her. “Why’s it matter to you?”

“I’m looking out for you,” Hitch explained. Their food arrived and she waited until the waitress moved on. Neither of them touched their food. “I don’t know how much you saw but that was a pretty scarring scene for anyone, especially a kid.”

“I ain’t a kid,” Bruno said, indignant. “I’m seventeen.”

“That’s still young.” Hitch unrolled her napkin to grab her fork, nodding her head at his plate. “Go ahead.” When he didn’t move, she sighed. “Look, I’ve been in a similar situation to yours before—can’t trust cops for anything. I swear to you that I am not trying anything.”

They stared at each other. His eyes defiant and searching, and hers begging him to trust her. He finally sat up and unrolled his napkin. He carved into the pancakes, closing his eyes for a brief moment before continuing with more enthusiasm. Hitch figured he probably hasn’t eaten in a while. 

They ate in silence. More so because Hitch didn’t want to bother the young boy from his meal. He finished before her, seeming satisfied and waiting for her, playing with the packets of jam and sugar again.

“You had issues with cops before?” Bruno asked out of nowhere.

The lump of food in her mouth went down hard. “You could say that.” Hitch took her time sipping her drink. Even though Bruno didn’t say it, she could see his eyes asking it. “I had family troubles while growing up. No matter how much it was reported, it was always ignored. I guess it kind of also had to deal with our financial situation, too. My mom and I were scraping by. Since we weren’t important it didn’t matter to them.”

That was only half the truth. But Bruno didn’t need to know everything. She hated to be using the same tricks that were used on her, but as long as it was believable so Bruno wouldn’t ask anything further.

“I’m sorry it was like that for you,” Bruno said, ceasing to play with the packets. “Can see why you became a cop but d’you still have problems with them?”

Hitch narrowed her eyes. “Why’s it matter to you?” she asked playfully.

A half-grin graced Bruno’s face. His right cheek has a shallow dimple. “Just tryin’ to see if you really playing me or not.”

“Completely understandable,” Hitch agreed. 

Hitch asked for the check, and as they waited, she saw Bruno lift his fingers to his mouth and chew on them. He was looking out the window, brow furrowed, completely unaware of his habit. 

“Do you trust me enough that you can tell me your other worries?”

Bruno’s eyes flicked from the window to her, his fingers still in his mouth. His attention returned to the window as the waitress returned with the check. Bruno didn’t say anything until they were back in Hitch’s car. The January cold still badgered and she waited until the car was fully thawed.

“I dunno if I can tell you,” Bruno began. “I just don’t want CPS or any of them involved.”

Hitch gripped the steering wheel. She had gone through that many times, even when her home life was reported to the authorities. She couldn’t bare the thought of being separated from her mother. It was a shitty life but it was all she knew. 

“They won’t get involved. It’ll just be me, okay?” Hitch assured. She would be going against all protocol. Her only thoughts were that she would deal with the consequences later and help out Bruno.

He struggled to say whatever came next. “I live with my grandma in Fritz. She’s bedridden and can’t do anything.” His fingers lifted to the corner of his mouth. “She was taking care of me but now I’m taking care of her. It’s—”

“How can I help?”

After about an hour and a half later, Hitch was following Bruno’s directions to where he lived. The ice and snow covering the roads had been more or less melted away in the rest of the city by the road salts. They didn’t even bother coming out to Fritz to do the same. Hitch’s car had bumped into a couple of covered potholes.

When Bruno signaled to her, she pulled her car next to the curb in front of a two-story wilting apartment building. The gold lettering above the rusted, iron gate was faded to grey; Sunset Park. The rest of the street looked similar to Sunset Park, crumbling and almost forgotten. As she got out of the car with Bruno, she could see faces peeking through the windows of the semi-habitable buildings. 

After unloading and locking her car, Hitch followed Bruno. The gate appeared to be locked, but Bruno pushed through easily. It was the same for the front door of the ancient complex. Once stepping through, Hitch was hit with a tsunami of flashbacks from her childhood.

The piss, smoke, beer, and body odor perfume trapped in the torn carpets. The stained and cracked plaster walls. The rickety stairs with a hole or nail sticking out. The shifty eyes of whoever was hanging out in the hallway; in this case, a drained white man leaning outside (Hitch thought so) his apartment door. 

Bruno climbed up the stairs, nodding at the man outside the door—his eyes trailing after them—and avoided the hazards on the steps. At the top landing, Bruno looked over his shoulder at her. He didn’t say anything as she tried to read his expression.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

He turned around and headed to the first door on the left. Hitch peered down the rest of the hallway. A little girl wearing oversized jeans and sweater held the hand of a toddler with sagging sweatpants. The toddlers greasy, blond hair stuck out in ragged strands, sucking his fingers as he eyed the rustling grocery bags in Hitch’s hands.

Bruno tapped a rhythm on the door and waited. Not soon after, a pattering of footsteps sounded behind the splintery door. A series of locks could be heard being unlocked. A little boy, looking to be around nine years old with his own mop of curly hair, opened the door. His face brightened when he saw Bruno but fell away upon seeing Hitch.

_ “Traes una desconocida,” _ the boy announced, as Bruno ushered Hitch in, and began to set the series of locks again dutifully.

_ “No es,” _ Bruno said to the boy. He took the bags from Hitch, and nodded in the direction of the boy. “He’s my little brother, Emmanuel.”

Hitch, free of the bags, waved to Emmanuel. “Hi! You can call me Hitch.”

Emmanuel didn’t spare her more than a glance.  _ “Esta sanky-panky no tiene nada que robar.” _

_ “Emmanuel!” _

Hitch stood lost in translation as the two brothers bickered. Loud and fast and sharp; high school spanish classes hadn’t prepared her for this. Bruno had finally said something and Emmanuel stomped down a short hallway. A door could be heard gently, yet forcibly, being shut.

In the micro kitchen, Bruno worked to putting away the groceries. When Hitch tried to help he told her to make herself comfortable, briefly apologizing for his little brother.

Turning her back to the kitchenette, Hitch didn’t have much to preoccupy herself with in the little apartment. A small living room housing a tattered armchair and a faded red pull-out couch. A boxy TV sat on two milk crates. A lone portable heater was connected next to the TV, taking over the sole socket. The only window in the living room was covered by a thick blanket with an odd animal print on it. When she tried to see outside the window, she saw that it would be fruitless when she discovered it was boarded up with plywood.

Looking down the short hallway, she could see two doors. One was opened to a miniscule bathroom in broken, green tile. The other door was closed. Hitch figured that’s where Emmanuel went; where she thought their grandmother lay as well. 

“You still not running?”

Hitch turned back to Bruno. He sat himself at the armchair, elbows on his knees, watching Hitch.

“You expect me to run?” Hitch countered.

Bruno shrugged. “Why not?”

Hitch leaned on the pull-out couch, not minding the dark stain close to her arm. “Would you be surprised to know that I grew up in a similar situation?”

He blinked slowly, and drawled out, “Naw. You?”

Hitch nodded. “I come from the East. After my dad left, my mom and I moved out here because of some boyfriend she had at the time.” Hitch rolled her eyes at the memory. The said boyfriend had made false promises. They wouldn’t have to live so harshly, there would always be food and Hitch would go to a private school. “Well, the guy got arrested and never returned afterwards. We had no money to move back, no family that my mom was on good terms with, so we stayed here.”

“I canneven believe it,” Bruno said, his eyes wide at Hitch. “You look like you come from money.”

Hitch shook her head. “It was a struggle. Honestly, coming here brought back a rush of memories.” 

Bruno brought his hands to cup around his nose and mouth, slowly dragging them downwards. “Me, my grandma, and my parents came from the Dominican Republic when I was about…” He looked up in thought “...two years old, I think. Damn, fifteen years.” He rubbed his mouth, eyes wide at how much time had flown. “Emmanuel was born here when I was like nine.”

“Where are your parents?” Hitch asked quietly. 

“They got deported around four years ago,” he plainly said, albeit his eyes showing emotion. “They used to work in a bodega that was shut down in South district. Across from a park, I think.” He shook his head, looking down at his shoes. “I was in school. I didn’t find out ‘till I came home to my grandma, crying in the kitchen. We was too scared to do anything. We felt that if we tried anything, they would deport me and my grandma, too. Nobody would be around for Emmanuel.”

Hitch nodded the whole time, even though he wasn’t looking at her. She had heard of the sweep when she was in her rookie days. It was sudden, hitting like an unforeseen storm. Hitch had been among a group that had been against it. Being rookies and outside of the immigration department, they couldn’t do anything and were brushed aside. It was a frustrating time.

Neither of them said anything. Hitch then reached into her coat pocket for her wallet, pulling out a business card. Bruno took it.

“If you ever need anything,” Hitch tapped the card, “this is how you can get into contact with me.”

Bruno ran a hand through his curls. “It really means a lot to me.” His eyes held hers sincerely. “Thank you.” 

Hitch was about to respond when her phone began ringing. She slid it out to see a call coming in from Rico. She gave Bruno an apologetic look. Rico didn’t give her a chance to answer.

“Where are you? Are you at the address I sent you?”

Hitch took a deep breath. “No, I had an important matter to take care of.”

“You hangover isn’t an excuse!” She heard Rico also taking deep breaths. “Look, this is important to Detective Smith’s case. I just need you to go check it out.”

“Do we have a warrant?” Hitch asked.

“No,” groaned Rico. “But I have a feeling that there’s something. I can’t really send an on-duty cop, so…”

“So you’re sending me, on my day off, to do your dirty work,” Hitch snorted. She glanced at Bruno idly shifting where he stood. “Ok, I’ll be on my way, but you owe me.”

She hung up before Rico could say anything else.

Hitch motioned to the door. “I have to go. How ‘bout next time I meet your grandma?”

Bruno nodded his head, leading her to the door. “Sounds good,” he said, unlocking all the locks.

Before she turned to leave, Hitch smiled at him. “Call me if you ever need anything, okay?”

Bruno smiled back. “Yeah.”

Hitch silenced her cell phone in her car as she studied the building in front of her. She had rechecked the address that Rico gave her, making sure that she was at the right place. 

An abandoned animal kill shelter about forty minutes due west outside of the city. A semi-remote location as Hitch saw how divided the properties out here were. Dried ivy vines were peeling off the side of the shelter. There was a chain link fence surrounding an area in front of the kill shelter and behind it. A square, cement building was inside the back-fenced area. Surrounding the property was a thicket of trees.

Hitch removed her holstered Glock 22 from the glove compartment and attached it to her belt. If anything goes wrong, she could get into some serious trouble for using her department issued gun. Rico had still insisted she take it, because unlike other officers, Hitch didn’t really own a personal firearm. 

She left her door unlocked and walked around the perimeter of the property. There were parts in the chain link fence where rust has appeared or will be. Closer to the cement building, she took note of the way the bottom of the fence curved inwards. Crouching low to it, she picked at a tuft of white fur still clinging on the fence. She fingered the downy fur before moving again, releasing it to the wind.

There was garbage littered at the edge of the thicket. Plastic bags and bottles, faded food wrappings, and when she got close enough, the smell of old urine and feces. What cause Hitch to wrinkle her nose further in disgust was the sight of several used condoms haphazardly tossed around. Her attention was then taken away when she spotted a pile of clothes thrown about further into the thicket. Tiptoeing through the mess and holding in her breakfast, Hitch overlooked the dirty clothes. She inhaled sharply when she saw dried blood stains and slash marks on one too many articles. 

A door slammed behind her. Hitch whipped around, unholstering her gun, aiming at the kill shelter. Someone was out here.

Carefully making her way back, she continued along the perimeter to see if she could spot a door. When she came around the fence, she saw a metal door on the cement building and one on the kill shelter. Both out of sight from where she parked. Hitch moved closer to the fence, immediately spotting an opening cut vertically. 

She quickly sent a text to Rico, telling her on what she’s going to do, and peeled back the curling opening to step inside.

Hitch looked between the shelter and the cement building. The cement building looked smaller. She could be done faster and then finish up with the shelter. Heading with her plan, she trekked to it, alert, her gun held up against her body. She was breathing hard, anxiety and adrenaline pooling in her stomach. 

On the count of three, she tried the door. The handle stuck. Locked. She circled around the building for any windows, only to see them narrow and close to the roof. 

Changing her plans, Hitch went to the shelter. She paused in front of the metal door trying to control her breathing. Counting to three once more, she tired the handle. Unlocked. 

She walked on the balls of her feet into the dark shelter. The hallway separated into three different directions. She pulled out her cell phone and turned on the flashlight.

The first one leads to the front desk. Yellowed, leftover pages on the floor, a broken clock above the entrance, and a chair overturned. Hitch illuminated one of the pages she was stepping on. The name of the shelter was at the top of the page: Rosco’s Animal Shelter. The year dated on the paper was 1962. 

Hitch’s ears perked at the sound of skittering behind her. She spun around, gun and light in front of her. A new feeling was pouring into her belly, dread. An unholy combination of anxiety, adrenaline, and dread. Hitch didn’t dare to call out to the dark, for fear of her voice cracking and for alerting whoever was in there with her. A voice in her head told her that they already knew she was there. 

Hitch focused on her breathing and scolded herself. She was trained for situations like this, but so few had she ever been in these situations. She powered through.

She cautiously made her way back to the hallway. Hitch pressed herself close to the wall as she shined her light into the second hallway. It lead to a row of top and bottom kennels. A familiar and faint odor attacked her nostrils when she stepped further into the hallway. She shined the light into one of the kennels and grimaced at the sight. The corpse of a cat, clouded eyes open, splotched tongue chewed away, and its side caved and crawling with maggots. There a couple of more kennels with a similar display. The rest empty.

Hitch backed out of the hall of kennels and made her way to the final diversion. A door with crooked lettering showing the dog room. She walked towards it and placed her hand on the door. A gentle thud sounded behind her. Hitch jumped and spun. A teenage girl at the end of her gun. Her hair was roughly pulled back into a ponytail, her arms up when she saw the gun, eyes wide. How did she not hear this girl behind her until now? Was she the one that slammed the door earlier?

“What are you doing here?” Hitch asked, her lips barely peeling back. The girl didn’t answer. “Answer me!”

“I-I was exploring,” she stammered. “I don’t live far off from here,” she added when Hitch didn’t lower her gun. “I’m not lying!”

“Exploring or not, you shouldn’t be here,” Hitch scolded. “It’s not safe.” Hitch looked over the girl once more. She could see her trembling, her eyes catching red with the light in her face. 

“I’ve been here before. You think I wouldn’t know that?” The girl sniffed and pointed to her gun. “Can you please lower that? That’s the only thing making me feel unsafe right now.”

Hitch tried to calm her nerves. She slowly lowered her gun, shaming herself for holding it up to a civilian.

“I’ll escort you out,” Hitch sighed. “I have to continue with my investigation.”

The girl pointed to the dog room behind her. “You shouldn’t go there.”

“Why not?”

“It’s full of dead dogs,” she answered, her trembling ceasing. 

Hitch quirked an eyebrow. “And how would you know?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “I said I’ve been here before. It’s not pretty in there.”

Hitch pursed her lips. “I’ve seen nothing pretty as of late. I’m sure I can handle it.” She gestured to the girl to start walking out. “Come on, you have to leave.”

The girl pouted and began walking down the hall. Hitch made sure to see her that she left outside of the building. She ducked out of the opening from where Hitch entered and stalked off into the thicket. Possibly a shortcut to where she lived.

Hitch returned to the door leading to the dog room. Holding her gun ready and light in front of her, she opened the door to near total darkness. There wasn’t a putrid smell in the air, unlike the kennels with dead cats. A cold, musty smell with a hint of old dog was in the air. The light caught glinting at the floor, and when she turned her light down to it, Hitch saw that it was white fur. 

She focused her flashlight into every vacant kennel. No sign as if anything has lived in them since 1962. When she reached the end of the run, her phone vibrated with a message from Rico. Hitch responded as she started to turn back. Before she could send the message, something hit against the heel of her boot. Flashing the light back down, she saw that it was a ball. A dull, milky ball.

Hitch leaned down to pick it up. Smooth, cool, and heavy on her palm. She was about to pocket it when it began to glow. The milkyness turning into a swirling silver. Hitch frowned and looked up in front of her. Her breath caught. How? She should have heard movement!

The girl stood in front of her, illuminated by the light coming from the sphere. She had thought before her eyes were red because of the flashlight beaming into them. No, her eyes were actually red. A malicious smile was on her lips.

“I told you not to come here.”

Hitch didn’t say anything. She felt herself going numb. Floating, almost. Her head spun around as she continued to stare into those red eyes. Only now, those red eyes were on her face. Hitch was looking back at herself, a malicious smile curving onto her own lips. 

She collapsed, her knees giving in. Her breath shortening. The light from the silver ball winked out. The flashlight from  _ her _ cell phone illuminated her face, hiding _ her  _ face in shadows.

“I was not expecting you, of course,”  _ her _ voice said, “but beggars can’t be choosers. That’s what you western people love to say so much.” 

Darkness encroached her vision, as the other person in  _ her _ body spoke. 

“Judging from your memories, you may be useful after all. Good night, little milk-sucker.”

The light disappeared.

Outside of the shelter, they took in a deep inhale of the cold air. Oh, this new identity would be useful all right. They holstered the gun and dug into the pockets of the coat they were wearing. Car keys, lip balm, a couple of crumpled receipts, and a wallet. They unfolded the wallet as they located their new car. 

“My new name is Hitch Dreyse,” they said to themselves. They climbed into the car and searched the glove compartment. They let out a victorious laugh when they saw the police badge. 

The cell phone in their hand ringed. Rico Brzenska. They slid on the icon to answer and brought it to their ear.

“Are you still at the kill shelter, Hitch? Did you find anything for Smith’s case?”

Smith! Could it be Erwin Smith? This body is the jackpot!

They cleared their voice and, “No, nothing useful. Just a bunch of dust.”

A frustrated sound came from the other end. “Looks like I’m wrong this time. Fuck me!”

“Well, if you’ll excuse me,” they said, searching for a constant leftover thought of the original host, “I want to enjoy the rest of my day off.” They hanged up and started the car. “Oh, Hitch. I love your life so much already.”

At the edge of the thicket, Annie saw a car drive away. She had the old Pekingese, Bao Bao, at her side on a leash. The dog had attracted her attention when it continued to stare off into the thicket earlier in the morning. It was unusual, as Bao Bao never really cared for the cluster of trees. The only time it did was when there was someone in there heading their way to Annie’s property.

Taking her Magnum, just in case, she was heading out when Bao Bao whined to her, wanting to follow. Reluctantly, she brought out a leash and let him lead her through the thicket. Halfway through, Bao Bao had stopped and stared straight ahead. Curious as to what was happening, Annie reached into her pocket to touch the shard of moonstone that once belonged to her father. She willed her body to listen to what was ahead. 

A woman’s voice.

Annie didn’t move until Bao Bao began to move again. They had made it to the other side of the thicket, and Annie was surprised to see an animal shelter. Truth be told, she never really explored much of the thicket. She just never felt like it.

They waited until the car was gone. Bao Bao began tugging forward, sniffing around the perimeter. Again, Annie touched the moonstone in her pocket and willed her body for anything. Smells hit her nose at once. Old dog and cat fur, mold, and the fresh perfume of two different people; one smelling more animalistic.

Annie saw an opening in the fence, and with Bao Bao leading, they stepped through. She stopped touching her stone, feeling drained, instead relying on Bao Bao’s nose to lead them to whatever it was making him uncomfortable.

The door to the shelter was unlocked. Dark and musty. There were several hallways as she turned on her cell phone flashlight. Bao Bao charged ahead, not giving Annie much of a chance to look into the first couple of diversions. He sniffed around in front of a door leading to the dog room, scratching at it until Annie opened it. The light barely pierced the darkness. It didn’t take long until the light fell on a crumpled figure.

The closer they got, Annie could see it was a teenage girl. Bao Bao sniffed at her and licked the girls face. Annie knelt to feel the girl’s skin. Her body temperature was low. Who knows how long she has been out here? Was the other woman responsible?

She couldn’t leave her here. Going against her father’s teachings, Annie scooped the girl into her arms. She saw the girl’s eyes fluttering, opening briefly to see her.

She croaked, “Help,” and fell back again into her dark spell.

Annie struggled to reach for the shard of moonstone. She placed it between her lips. She will be needing all of her strength to get back home.

Back at the edge of the thicket, Annie looked back to the shelter. Bao Bao whined and she glanced at the dog. He looked up at her, and she could feel his palpable worry thanks to the stone in her mouth. 

“I know, buddy,” Annie muttered around the stone. “Something’s coming.”

* * *

 

Mikasa skipped out on brunch with the Jeagers and Arlerts. Barely managing to kick off her boots and shrugging off her coat, she had crawled into her bed and wrapped herself with the blankets. 

Carla had stopped by, asking her questions while smoothing her dark locks from her forehead. Mikasa didn’t respond to the motherly affection, burrowing herself further against her pillow. Carla left with a sigh. Eren had come by, too. He didn’t walk into her bedroom but leaned against her doorway, silently watching her breathing figure underneath the blankets. Grisha didn’t check on her; he had been called in to work at the clinic.

That just left her all by herself in the house. 

Mikasa stared blankly at the mauve walls of her bedroom, remembering what happened in the woods. Her hand moved on its own to feel one of her forearms. It had been a while since it was as smooth as now. She could feel the ghost feeling of the fox’s wet nose pressing against her wrist. It’s warm tongue tasting her skin. Her mark turning white—glowing—and a strong pulse thrumming in her arms.

She unfurled herself from her cocoon of blankets and stretched out on her back. Mikasa brought her wrist up and inspected the mark she always had for as long as she could remember. Graceful, black swipes of ink. She chewed her inner cheek, wishing she could understand her mother tongue. 

Mikasa sat herself against the headboard. She glumly looked around her old bedroom. A corkboard tacked with polaroid pictures of wildlife, family and friends. White curtains, a small TV on her dresser, and the stuffed animals scattered on the floor from when she pushed them off the bed. Simple and feminine, not what many people would expect of her. 

Her roaming eyes stopped at the digital clock beside the TV. It would be awhile before anybody would come back home. Mikasa didn’t mind being alone, but there is a point when it could be too much. 

Mikasa sluggishly got out of bed and left her warm bedroom. She hugged herself from the chill in the rest of the home. She took a couple of laps around the inside of the house, the second time, taking her time to study the photographs hanging on the walls. Pictures from her time in the orphanage all the way to her awkward prom picture at the bottom of the staircase.

Mikasa cringed at the nostalgia. She had been in a rush that night, overwhelmed with the excitement and nervousness of going with someone that wasn’t her brother or Armin for once. She had been getting out of her wannabe goth phase, still keeping the black eyeliner and bangs covering her eyes. Mikasa had forced Armin to help with her hair, resulting in tight, sausage ringlets that should have been brushed out.

She leaned back against the wall and stared at the picture. Her eyes kept coming back to her left wrist on the photograph. Mikasa could see the poor attempt of hiding her mark. Armin and her went through hours of makeup tutorials and nothing worked in keeping it hidden. The black lines stood out albeit blurry from the corner store concealer.

Mikasa crossed over to the picture and placed her wrist next to the frame, comparing the marks. She smiled wanly; through all of life’s changes, the mark was the only constant in hers.

A muffled thud disturbed the silence of the house. Mikasa ripped her hand away from the wall and looked up the stairs. Nobody else should be home. Her neck tingled. 

Mikasa backtracked into the kitchen, looking back occasionally to see where she was going. She pulled out a knife from the knife block and patted her pockets for her phone. She cursed when she didn’t feel it. Who had landlines nowadays? 

_ You have two options, _ Mikasa thought.  _ Be like the people in scary movies and check it out, or get your phone, call Carla, and still check it out. _

“I die either way,” Mikasa said to herself.

Walking on the balls of her feet, Mikasa walked almost soundlessly back to the stairs. She held the knife steady and at her side, cringing whenever the steps creaked from her weight. Perspiration dampened her skin by the time she was at the top of the staircase. The doors all looked closed and the hallway somehow seemed longer. She rubbed at the feeling in the back of her neck. 

She gently pressed her hand at every door she passed, feeling for anything. Eren’s door from across her room was firmly shut. Her door was still open as she left it. She rushed in, and quietly closed the door. Mikasa searched for her phone between her blankets, letting out a gasp of relief when she palmed it. She set the knife on her dresser and typed out a message to Carla and another to Eren. Her nerves frayed waiting for a response, pacing her room and looking to her door to see if someone would barge in at any second.

Another thud. It came from the other side of the wall in the room next to hers. Carla and Grisha’s bedroom. 

Mikasa drummed numb fingers against her neck. It bothered her more than ever like someone pinching your skin and slowly twisting it. Still not seeing a response, Mikasa fumbled with the knife in her hand and peeked out her door. 

No one in the hallway. 

She stepped out and shuffled to Carla and Grisha’s bedroom door. Mikasa shakily held the knife in front of her, whatever training she had was thrown out the window. Cautiously, she reached for the door handle and paused. The handle was warm.

The ache in her neck spread to her body, warming her icy hands and feet. Mikasa turned the handle and opened the door slowly.

Empty.

Mikasa inspected the room; checking underneath the bed, the closet, and the en suite bathroom. Finding nothing didn’t soothe her nerves at all. Where did the thud come from? 

Mikasa was settling down at the edge of the bed when it happened again. Her alarm bells went off and she twirled to the closet. Two sides fought in her head: to open or not. The winning side lead her towards the closet, knife in front. Reaching out with the other, she grabbed the doorknob and swallowed dryly. She could still turn back. She could still run back to her room and hide underneath her bed like she did when she was first brought to this country. Instead, she flung the door open.

Clothes hung from their hangers and shoes were organized at the bottom. The difference was that now Mikasa caught something she hadn’t seen before. An opening above the shelf inside the closet, possibly leading to the attic. Mikasa stood on her toes and felt around the shelf with the knife. Her breath caught when she felt her wrist warming, glancing at it to see her mark fading to white again. 

A dim light came from the corner of the shelf. Mikasa swept the knife to it, feeling it clank against something. She nudged the object, hearing a rolling against wood, until it thudded on the closet floor. 

A sphere glowing like the moon. 

It hypnotized her. It drew her in. Abandoning the knife on the shelf, Mikasa crouched on the closet floor to study the sphere. She poked it and it sparked with more light. Curiosity emerged as she glanced from her mark and the sphere. Her body thrummed. Her brain itched and she felt thirsty. 

She picked up the ball with her left hand. The mark and the sphere pulsed, the vibrations running through her. A wave drowned her.

A man with a foreign face. A common woman with a secret. A forest with a certain smell. A village of peasants and rice fields. A shrine full of offerings. An old woman with hair sweeping the ground. The chilling howls, the tang of blood in the air and on the tongue, and insensible skin chased by warmth. A blank mind.

Mikasa resurfaced, dragging air back into her lungs. She was lying back in the closet, staring up at the knife handle at the edge of the shelf. Her mind was a jumble; she could see everything and nothing. Feeling the cold on her palm, she raised it above her to see her mark back to normal and the sphere a dull grey. The thrumming in her body had dispersed, leaving her to feel hollow.

Mikasa wanted to stay there to catch her breath and to untangle the web of images she had seen. The sound of the bedroom door opening didn’t let her. Mikasa rolled herself onto her hands and knees, feeling light headed from moving too fast, when Grisha spotted her through the open closet. 

His face became a cocktail of emotions as he took in what he saw. Shock, panick, anger, pity. He closed his eyes when he came to the sphere that Mikasa was trying to hide at the back of the closet. 

Grisha closed the door behind him. “I never wanted you to ever know about this, but the inevitable has happened.” He crossed the room and kneeled in front of Mikasa, helping her back to her feet. He took a moment to reach above the shelf to close the opening and to collect the kitchen knife. 

“What the fuck was that?!” Mikasa slurred, slumping against the wall. She still held the sphere in a firm grip.

Grisha put an arm around her and sat her at the edge of the bed. The door opened again and Carla came in, locking the door behind her. The friendliness in her eyes was gone and she wrung her hands.

“We have a few minutes before Eren comes inside,” Carla spoke hurriedly. 

The room spun less as Mikasa kept looking between the both of them. A cold pressure settled on her chest. Grisha placed a hand over her hand covering the sphere and turned it over to touch the mark on her wrist.

“There is so much that you don’t know about yourself, Mikasa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm mostly done with the writing but I have a lot of editing to do. I'm getting there, hopefully. I take criticism well so don't be afraid to correct me on anything.


End file.
